New Recruit
by xRae Asakurax
Summary: G1 AU, Slash. The last thing Adam "Prowl" McCallen wanted was a new partner, but he very quickly found there was far more to the Detroit police recruit Jasper Miles than at first was apparent.
1. Chapter 1

**Rae:** And a howdy-doody to you all! Hope you're all well and alright. This story is actually going to be multi-chaptered (le gasp!), and I blame it on my Beta because her place just _breeds_ plot bunnies like there's no mañana! One of them must have followed me, because I was on the train home when I got bitten. xD

Anyway, on with the story! Much love and pokes as always to my wonderful Beta xx

* * *

Adam shifted a few papers in his arms to free a hand before rapping on the commissioner's door and waiting for the deep voice to grant him entrance. Once he did he turned the handle and stepped inside. His boss of 13 years since he joined the Detroit police force at 18 sent him a reassuring grin from behind his desk

"Don't worry Prowl, you're not in trouble."

"I hardly expected to be, sir, since I don't recall doing anything trouble-worthy as of late." Adam frowned. "And please don't call me Prowl."

"Fits your ability to sneak up on people, Detective McCallen," Orion Arkham smirked and pointed to a file on his desk. Adam raised an eyebrow before stepping forward to pick it up. When he opened it he found the face of a young man with skin just a shade too light to class him as black trapped on glossy paper, easy smile and startling gold eyes framed by dreads staring back at him. A profile that named him as Jasper Miles was paper-clipped behind the photo, which Adam skimmed briefly through.

"I don't understand, sir."

"That is a new recruit I have decided to bring onto our force. He needs some experience with police work before he can go on to anything more like he wants to." Orion leaned his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers in front of him. "His references are excellent. I believe he'll make a fine addition to our troops, even if it is temporary."

"That's all well and good, sir, but why are you showing this to me?"

"I want him to be your new partner. You've needed one ever since Henderson... left, and you're the best one to show him the ropes." The commissioner sat back, waiting for his companion's reaction.

Adam narrowed his eyes. "Commissioner, I do not need or want a new partner. I work fine by myself, they would only get in my way. I don't care how highly-recommended this Miles person is."

"I was trying to make it a request, McCallen, but that was just a cover for an order." Orion stood up and pushed the profile and a few other folders gently into Adam's chest. "He will be here later, I expect you to take him under your wing. No complaints." Adam stared expressionlessly for several seconds at Orion, before his lips curled slightly in a snarl and he snapped the papers he had come in with onto the table.

"Very well. My reports." He swiftly turned heel and walked out of the door, not bothering with a goodbye. Orion sighed and watched Adam leave, a sad expression on his face.

"You need to let him go, Prowl," he said softly to thin air as he sat back down and pulled Adam's neatly typed and ordered reports towards him. "For your sake if no one else's."

* * *

Jasper bit his bottom lip, reading the sign saying 'Commissioner O. Arkham' emblazoned in gold on warped glass. "This mus' b' it," he muttered, and fiddled with his visor as he raised a hand and knocked twice. A deep "come in" was his cue to do so, and he found himself standing before a man with blue-black hair and a weary face that looked like it had seen far too much of this world. It cracked into a tired smile when Jasper came in.

"You must be Lieutenant Miles. Good to meet you." A dry, worn hand was offered over the desk, and Jasper took it.

"Jazz, please sir. 'M not one fer formality."

Orion nodded. "Jazz it is, then. I'm Orion Arkham, commissioner of this precinct. I've already assigned you a new partner. Be warned, he may be a little reluctant to have you around at first, but he has his reasons. His name's Adam McCallen."

"Adam huh? Taken from th'Hebrew t'mean 'man' or th'Akkadian _'adamu' _meanin' 't'make'. Strong name." Jazz tilted his head to one side and Orion chuckled.

"I'm impressed," he grinned. "But don't sell your own name short, treasurer." The lieutenant smiled slightly and ran a hand through his dreadlocks, holding them in a ponytail for a few seconds before letting them drop down his back.

"So, where do I find this new partner o' mine?"

"His door's hard to miss. The mahogany-colored one down the hall, second corridor to your left and third door on the right." Orion passed Jazz a few papers, a badge and a gun holster. "You can get your weapon from the security lockers downstairs."

Jazz strapped the holster around his shoulders, taking some comfort in the feeling of the soft leather through his shirt, slipped the badge onto his belt and took the forms or whatever they were from Orion. "Alrighty then."

"Now, go find Detective McCallen. Have fun and good luck, Lieutenant Miles and welcome aboard." Jazz shot him a cheeky smile, saluted smartly with two fingers and slipped out the door. Orion shook his head. He had a feeling things were going to get interesting around here pretty soon.

* * *

A sharp rap at his door made Adam jump, and he took off his reading glasses as he called, "come in." The door opened tentatively, and a dreadlocked head poked around it. A sheepish grin slipped across a dark-skinned face, eyes hidden behind a bright, almost glowing, blue visor.

"Yo," he greeted. "I'm lookin' fer an Adam McCallen. You him?"

"Yes, I would be him." Adam rose smoothly from his chair and crossed the room as the man's expression turned into relief.

"Awesome, found ya first time! 'M Jasper Miles, but jus' call meh Jazz. Everyone does. I was told I was gonna be yer new partner, 'm I right?" Jasper stuck out a hand, the same easy grin Adam had seen in his photo offered simultaneously. Adam took it, surprised at the firm grip and confident handshake the other gave. The hand was strong and calloused, muscles supple under the detective's fingers.

"Jazz..." Adam liked the way it sounded, and Jasper himself seemed friendly enough, if a bit enthusiastic. "Like the music?"

"Yeh won't find a bigger music fan than me." Jazz grinned proudly, and for some reason the brunette found for a brief second he didn't want that grin to leave his face. Anything else looked off on him. "And it's Lieutenant," he added as Adam opened his mouth. It shut again with an audible clack of teeth, and the detective huffed. They stared at each other for several seconds, sizing up, and then the spell was broken by Adam's cell going off. He broke their gazes, but could still feel his would-be partner's following him as he answered.

"McCallen." A pause. "Where?... Uh-huh... No, that's fine. I'm on my way and don't call me Prowl." He pressed the end-call button, and turned back to see Jasper's features morph into one of mild curiosity. He sighed. "Well, you might as well start now and I'll see what's what with you. Just got called in for a bank robbery."

"Dude, seriously?" Jazz pulled a face. "Man, bank robberies're such a drag."

"Live with it, Miles. Now let's go." Adam picked up his badge and gun from a drawer, and Jasper jogged after the taller man.

"I need t'get mine from security," put in the dark-skinned man, motioning to Adam's gun, and the detective nodded tightly as he switched course. Jazz found himself in the security lockers pretty quickly, and it took all of a minute to get him and register him with a gun of his own.

"I trust I don't need to recite protocol to you," said Adam as they left and headed for the car park.

"No, but yeh might find I'll ignore it if I think it's fer th'better good," admitted Jazz, cocking the gun and aiming briefly at the wall before snapping the safety on. "Jus' thought it fair t'warn ya now." They reached Adam's car, a Nissan Fairlady Z Jazz noted with some amusement, and both of them hopped inside.

"You won't last long here if you do that." Adam started up the engine and favored his companion with a glare.

"That's what m'last station said too, but when it saved not on'y two o'their own but more civilians than if they'd gone by protocol they hadda thank meh fer that." Jazz leant back in his seat. "See, I wanna go int' Secret Service. They get all th'excitin' tasks, 'n I ain't one fer missin' out on th'action."

"I gathered." Adam peeled out. There was silence between the two for several minutes, and the brunette took the opportunity to look his new partner over, try and suss him out. There was something about Jasper, something he couldn't quite put a finger on, that made him impossible to hate or stay angry at. Already he was finding his resentment and chagrin towards having an unannounced companion was dissipating quickly, being replaced with not only a grudging acceptance but also curiosity. Adam wanted to know more about Jazz, wanted to know as much as he could. And he didn't understand why. He vented a brief bit of frustration by taking his next left turn more sharply and at a higher speed than a normal rush would have him do. Jasper made a noise of protest. "Woah, man, road rage!" Adam was about to say something back, but then recognized the humorous tone dripping off the words. He settled for a grunt instead, turning down the main road leading up to the central bank. Silence reigned again for a couple more minutes, then Jazz piped up with another question.

"Why do people call ya 'Prowl'? Yeh said t'whoever was callin' yeh not t'call yeh Prowl."

"Apparently," answered the detective as they pulled up to the bank, "I have a talent for sneaking up on people. The precinct gave me the nickname 'the Prowler', which quickly got shortened to Prowl."

"An' how come yeh don't like bein' called that?"

"I have a name, and it's not Prowl."

"Huh." Jazz studied the brunette, taking in the high cheekbones and soft jaw, and the red strands of hair that fell around his face. "Yeh don' look like yeh mind it that much, man therefore, I'm gonna call yeh Prowl."

"It's Adam, you cheeky glitch," growled the other, and he got out the car so abruptly that Jazz blinked in surprise when one second he was there and the next he wasn't. The dark-skinned man opened his door and stepped out into the Detroit sun, shutting it with a quick flick of his hips and taking in the scene. The glass doors that made up the entrance were smashed; only a few bits of the shattered covering still clung feebly to their metal frame. Said frame looked still in perfect working order, but tell-tale scratches and dents told Jazz that more than a couple bullets had been fired. Around 4 or 5 ambulances were parked pell-mell, housing several shocked and a couple injured patrons and staff. Sirens leading away from the scene led Jazz to assume some had been seriously injured and were on the way to hospital. Jazz looked back round at Adam, who was talking to a couple of rather flustered-looking officers, and noticed he had his back to the lieutenant. A small grin. He wasn't watching, which left him free to wander without supervision. He made his way gingerly, silently to the bank doors. Inside the bank wasn't any better than the outside. The screens that separated the bank tellers from the customers were nearly all gone, shards of them littering the floor which crunched under his boots.

Jazz caught the scent of something strange towards the back of the main hall and moved towards it, sniffing to find its direction. When he reached the top of a set of stairs, he stopped and peered down them. He couldn't see anything, so he reached up to the side of his visor and twirled a small knob until the blue tinge that normally colored his vision changed to green speckled with blacks and blues. Night vision mode. He continued down, noting the light dangling from one wire and sparking occasionally, which explained why no one had put it on. The smell got stronger the further in he went, until he reached the steel vault door that was supposedly impossible to break through. The door itself lay forlornly in front of a gaping hole in the wall, beyond which Jazz could make out the disarray the vault itself was thrown in. Some of it hadn't gone with the thieves, but the lieutenant suspected they weren't bothered about it. They'd got away with far too much as it was. He studied the scene a bit more, then closed his eyes as he disconnected his visor from the controls either side of his head. The scent which had led him there in the first place immediately sharpened up and grew far stronger, and Jasper wrinkled his nose before settling down to try work out what it was.

* * *

"They seem to have blown the door out with something, but we've yet to determine what it was. We're also a little puzzled as to how-" The police officer updating Adam on the situation was cut off when Jasper's warm voice interrupted.

"Nitroglycerine, mon ami." He grinned when Adam raised an eyebrow.

"And how, Miles, would you know that?" He asked tightly.

"Bananas." He began to snicker when their faces registered confusion. "There was a definite smell o' bananas down there, which on'y comes from usin' sommat with nitroglycerine in it. I smelt gunpowder too, which leads me t'thinkin' they used some kinda large caliber gun, quite possibly a .50 BMG, t'hit th'same place over 'n over til they penetrated th'door, then stuffed sommat with nitroglycerine through th'hole 'n detonated it." Jazz shrugged. "That's th'best I can come up with, but it fits th'scene downstairs."

"You can see down there?" asked the officer, bewildered. "It's pitch black!"

Jazz tapped his visor and grinned. "Ain't jus' fer lookin' pretty, y'know. Comes with night vision." He looked surprised then, but followed, when Adam took his arm and steered him away. As soon as they were out of earshot he rounded on the younger man.

"What were you doing down there without me?" He snapped. Jazz cocked his head to one side, frowning.

"I told ya, I have a tendancy not t'follow protocol Prowl."

"It's Adam!" Adam sighed, noting with annoyance his lack of real anger at Jazz for wandering off on his own. "And what do you mean your visor has night vision?"

At that Jasper looked a little hesitant, but shrugged Adam's arm off and unclipped the visor from the holders on his temples. The detective's eyes narrowed when he saw the brilliant golden eyes that had stared up at him from Jasper's photo were just as empty as the photo itself. "'M blind," the man said simply. "Happened when I was 14. I was devastated at firs'. Bein' in th'police was like a life-long dream fer me, 'n m'blindness took that chance away. At first I fell int' a really bad depression, but then 'bout 6 months later I heard about an experiment a local bio-mechanical research facility needed volunteers fer. They said if th'tests were successful, they could make blind people see. I went fer it." Jasper shrugged. "Essentially, th'things I have on m'temples patch straight through t'm'optic nerves. It's jus' m'eyes that ain't workin', th'nerve is fine. M'visor translates light int' electrical pulses that travel down th'nerve t'm'brain, allowin' me t'see artificially. I got it upgraded a couple years ago t'include night vision, infra-red 'n heat detection modes."

Adam nodded slowly. "And you could smell the gunpowder and nitroglycerine because your body amps up the other senses to compensate."

"Exactly." Jazz snapped the visor back into place and gave his partner a funny look. "Now Prowl, will yeh quit demandin' how I know things 'n jus' trust that I do? I don' understand yer attitude towards me. I'm excited t'work with ya, ain't it th'same fer yeh?"

"No, Jazz, I..." Adam trailed off when he saw the mixture of hurt, curiosity and anticipation scrawled on Jazz's handsome features. "I just... haven't had a partner in a long time and I haven't wanted one. You've come too suddenly for me to quite get used to the idea yet." He felt a little relieved when Jasper's face went back to a relaxed grin.

"Fair enough. When yeh wanna talk 'bout it, Prowler, I'm an ear fer yeh. It ain't good t'keep things bottled up." Jasper tapped the detective's chest, flicked a finger teasingly past his nose with a laugh when Adam looked down at the tap and trotted back off to the car to get the forensics kit Adam kept there.

* * *

Adam leant back in the booth seat of his favorite café, sipping his coffee with satisfaction. He knew he was addicted to the stuff, but it came with the territory. He wasn't sure he knew any cop who didn't live off the black caffeine fix. That is, he mused, until Jasper. Where Adam had ordered coffee, black with one sugar, Jazz had asked for a low-fat, decaf latte without whipped cream. When it came, he took it with only a quiet thank you and a large first swig.

What surprised Adam was when Jazz took a small vial out of his jacket and added a couple drops to it, and then took off his visor after putting the vial away, setting the strip of clear blue glass on the table near the detective's arm.

"Dieting?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. The darker man made a face, wrinkling his nose.

"Naw, man. Habit o' mine." He took another, smaller swig of the latte.

"And what habit is that?"

Jazz looked sightlessly at where he sensed his partner sat over the rim of the cup, and set it back down with a sigh. "I used t'run with a bad crowd, Prowler. A gang. We got involved in so many turf wars it weren't funny. A popular way o' gettin' rid o'th'competition was t'poison 'em. I built up mah immunity by drinkin' th'stuff, 'n I guess it's a habit that's always stayed with meh."

"So that vial's full of poison?" Adam struggled to hide a horrified expression before he remembered Jazz couldn't see it. His partner was getting weirder and weirder. Not even together for 7 hours and already he was turning into the most unusual man Adam had ever met in his life. And he'd met some extremely strange people.

"Poisons," amended Jazz, putting emphasis on the plural. "But yeah." Silence fell again, more a stunned one than uncomfortable, and then Jasper narrowed his eyes at his partner. "This ain't fair," he declared, making the other look up at him in surprise. "I've told yeh more 'bout mehself in th'past 7 hours than I've told anyone in th'first month. An' I still know barely anythin' 'bout yeh. Care t'enlighten me?"

Adam considered. He did have a point, he shouldn't be so harsh. "Alright, fair enough. What would you like to know?"

"How old yeh are, yer hobbies, d'yeh have a girlfriend..." Jasper trailed off and waved a hand vaguely. "Things like that. Anythin'."

"I'm 31, for starters," mused Adam. "I enjoy anything that taxes my brain and logic puzzles, so I'm not good at thinking outside the box and no, I don't have a girlfriend."

"What 'bout yer partner?" Jazz drained the rest of his drink, grimacing at the stinging the poisons created. He'd be sick later, he knew it, but he just couldn't seem to kick the habit. It was like some kind of ridiculously warped and repulsive bulimia, he noted with distaste.

"What about him?" The brunette's voice gained a defensive edge.

"Jus' wanna know what happened t'him. Yeh said yeh hadn't had one in a while, and sommat tells me yeh'd've gotten over 'em 'n had a new partner by now if he'd jus' up 'n left or got transferred."

The detective turned away for a couple minutes, unable to look at Jazz as memories rose unbidden to the surface of his mind. He realized then how easy it was for him to get swamped by them, and that Jazz was right. It wasn't good to keep things like this bottled up. "His name was Henderson. Kyle. The best partner anyone could ask for." Adam didn't look up, just began twirling his thumbs on top of clasped hands. "He was the one who convinced me to get my hair done like this, you know." A shake of the head to emphasize the bright red strands of hair that fell elegantly around his face. "We were good friends. Best friends. We had the best relationship in the precinct, according to everyone else." Adam finally looked up, locking gazes with Jazz's unseeing one, and gently picked up the blue visor from the table and held it. "It was only a routine thing. One of our own had pulled over a guy for speeding, discovered a crap load of drugs in the car and called in back-up. We got there a few minutes later. The man didn't answer anything, never said anything, just stared at Kyle. It was pretty weird. And then..." The grip tightened on Jasper's visor. "And then he _smiled. _This really, really creepy smile that held nothing but malice. That's when we were ambushed by 5 other men. Both the cop who'd stopped the man and Kyle were shot. I got lucky, ducking down into the fields next to the roadside and taking cover. After I didn't hear anything for a couple minutes I radioed for an ambulance and back-up units and made my way back. The cop was dead, but Kyle was still hanging on. I stayed with him until the ambulance arrived a few minutes later, but when they got to the hospital he was pronounced DOA." The visor was dropped, hands came up to cover Adam's face. "If I hadn't run away, he might've made it. If I'd stayed, he might not be dead!"

Jazz sat still for several seconds, stunned, and then reached over gently until he found Adam's hands and prised them away from his face, which he immediately got the sense had tears running down it. He didn't let go, and held on more firmly as the detective tried feebly to get out of the grip. "Prowler, listen t'meh. If yeh'd stayed behind yeh woulda been killed as well." When Adam tried to protest, a finger silenced it before it could be voiced. "No, shut up. Look, think 'bout it this way. Th'people yeh've saved 'n th'things yeh've done since then, would they have been had yeh stayed that night? Naw, man. People must owe yeh their lives, believe me when I say stayin' away was th'best thing yeh coulda done. He died doin' his duty, 'n that's a risk we all know we're takin' choosin' this job!" He let go of Adam, and even though Jasper was blind the detective could see the low-lying anger in his eyes accentuating what he was saying. "D'yeh really think Kyle woulda wanted yeh t'lock yerself away like this? Th'best thing we can do fer those who've passed on is to live fer 'em. Trust me, I know." Jasper leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, waiting.

Adam stayed silent for several minutes, processing what his partner was saying. It made sense, but he'd been trying to move on for a while now and it hadn't worked. Maybe though, he thought, settling his gaze back on the lieutenant, just maybe, Jazz could help him through. Maybe having a new partner wasn't a bad thing, maybe it was what he needed all along. Silence for another minute, and then, "Alright. But you're going to have to help me. I can't do this alone, God knows I've tried. And," he added as Jasper opened his mouth, "I'll only do it if you start kicking that habit of drinking poison. It's vile."

Jasper grinned. "You got a deal. But 'm gonna need help with th'habit kickin'."

"Seems like we need each other then," was all Adam said as he drained the last of his coffee. He actually felt a lot better, like a load had been taken off his chest he hadn't realized he'd been carrying. But seriously, what was it with Jasper Miles that made him unable to help himself talking about his issues? It was like an invisible, intagible charisma that seemed to reach out and offer nothing more than support and comfort. Whatever it was, Adam decided his new colleague was special. It could be the start of a _very_ interesting partnership.


	2. Chapter 2

"Six shots!" Jazz tapped his ear protectors to make sure they were on securely - he did have sensitive hearing - before picking up his gun and sighting down the barrel towards his target. He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying his breathing. In...out...in...out. They snapped open again and he fired off six rounds very rapidly, ignoring any recoil the gun produced, letting his body absorb the shockwaves. He paused to see his handiwork and snorted, then placed his gun on the bench in front of him to disarm it, slip the clip out and take his protectors off. He pressed the button that brought his target to him, and he tore it off the holder with a frown.

"Nice shooting." Adam's voice didn't make Jazz jump, but he was surprised. He recovered quickly with a short laugh.

"I usually have better shootin' than this, Prowler, but thanks." He studied the paper. Five out of his six shots had gone somewhere right through the center point, but one of them had strayed off into the 9-point sector around it. That was the shot he decided to glare at, as though the strength of said glare alone could move the hole into the center area. Adam seemed amused.

"Glaring at it isn't going to help, Jazz. You just need to brush up again, that's all. Believe me, that's better than any of the other guys here could do." Adam pursed his lips in thought. "Were you ever a force sniper?"

Jasper looked surprised. "Yeah, actually, I was."

"Figures." Adam watched the darker man roll up his target paper and piece the gun back together, plopping it back in its holster. "Are you doing anything later?"

"Why, yeh wanna go do sommat?"

"Just wondering."

"Actually, yeah. I am." Jazz shot him a grin. "Yeh can come with me, if yeh wanna. 'M goin' fer m'maintenance check on m'optical gear."

"Really?" Adam blinked. "I might take you up on that. A bio-engineering lab must be fascinating to go to."

"Percy 'n Wade are th'scientists that come up with th'stuff. I'll warn yeh now, Wade has a tendency t'blow things up. Rai's ferever goin' on at him fer it." Jazz shouldered a small bag and the two of them left the firing range. "Ryan's th'surgeon who actually put m'implants in. He's an absolute miracle worker, hailed as one o'th'best doctors 'n surgeons in the US. Normally really expensive t'go t', 'n I mean _really_ expensive, but since I did their program voluntarily 'n 'm under no obligation to 'em, I get his work fer free." The lieutenant laughed at a sudden thought. "He has a... _unique_ bedside manner. I heard him threaten t'turn one o' his patients int' a remote-controlled robot designed by Wade if he didn't stop gettin' up 'n walkin' round when he weren't s'posed t'."

"I'm guessing the threat of imminent explosions stopped him," remarked Adam dryly, and Jasper laughed his almost musical laugh that showed his genuine happiness.

"Right about." There was a comfortable silence for a couple minutes as they meandered towards the car park, and then Jazz snapped his fingers together, making a noise of realization. "Oh! I nearly fergot t'tell you! We got a hit back on one o' those partials we took from th'scene."

"Really? Who?"

"Came back as Casey Octane, a very dangerous man." Jazz made a face. "He works fer Russell."

"Russell? As in, Morgan Russell?" Adam had to hide a surprised expression. Morgan Russell was a suspected crime lord, and by that he meant full bloody-well known, but so far no one had been able to come close to bringing him down. He was a slippery piranha who loved their fruitless efforts to catch him and considered it a game.

"Th'same. Thing is, if Octane was here then th'other two musta been too."

"The other two?" Adam raised an eyebrow, and then the other one when another thought hit him. "And how do you know he works for Russell?"

Jasper grimaced, his handsome face tightening. "Remember when I said I ran with th'gangs? There was one gang who were severely opposed t'ours, 'n they took every opportunity they could t'wipe us out. Thing is they're like an organization, really structured 'n well-funded. We discovered that th'brains behind it all 'n leader o'th'gang was none other than Morgan Russell, crime lord extraordinaire." They reached Jazz's car, a Porsche 935 Turbo. Adam had to bite back a snort of laughter, because it just suited Jasper to the core. The car was everything he was; suave, fun, cheeky, unruly and fast. The man himself didn't notice that, though, and carried on talking while he unlocked the car so both of them could get in. " 'Course he had a crapload o' other areas o' expertese 'n never really bothered with th'gang, but he has three lackeys who're more'n capable o' overseein' 'n runnin' it. Casey Octane, Astro Donovan 'n Blaze Denton. They were ruthless, merciless 'n seemed to constantly be in three minds 'bout things. Each o' 'em. They were rarely seen apart, so if Octane was there then Donovan 'n Denton were too."

Adam made a humming sound, looking thoughtful as Jasper started the engine. "Looks like too big-a job for just three of them."

"I wouldn't underestimate 'em," warned his partner. "Anyway, enough o'th'morbid stuff." Jazz revved the engine, reversing out his space with a satisfied grin. "Mmmm, love m'baby." He glanced round at his companion. "Let's go get m'visor sorted. I gotta warn ya, be prepared fer tirades, explosions 'n general mayhem."

Adam shot his partner a look that was both confused and a 'now-you-tell-me', but it was mostly ignored. The detective settled back in his seat, wondering just how Jazz had actually afforded this car. It was nice to ride; the heady thrum of its engine pulsed right through Adam's body every time the accelerator was touched, which told volumes of its restrained power, and the seats were worn, soft and comfortable. The suspension was strong, obviously well-maintained because the drive was extremely smooth. Jazz was evidently in his element when he was driving the Porsche, and Adam found himself speculating if the darker man had raced in this car before. Probably, but he didn't want to ask, not right now. There was a contented silence between them as they drove on, neither of them finding any want or need to speak.

* * *

When they reached the laboratories Jazz pulled up outside with a flourish, causing a couple of the men in labcoats milling around outside apparently on break to either roll their eyes or grin. This obviously wasn't an uncommon occurrence for the labs, Adam mused with a small smile, and he nodded politely at some of them as he got out the car. A loud voice made him jump when it called Jazz's name, and he turned to see a man striding towards them with a lazy smirk on his lips. He was well-built with graying red hair and several scars adorning nearly every part of his body that Adam could see. A faded red t-shirt and a pair of jeans were the only thing hiding his strength.

"Yo Jazz! Been a while! How ya been?"

"'Hide, hey!" Jazz's face broke out into a delighted grin. They touched fists. "I'm great. Jus' got a new job in th'force. This here's m'new partner, Adam. Prowl, this is a good friend o' mine from when I ran with th'wrong crowds. Raymond Ironhide." Adam took the proffered hand, and then stepped back to watch them. To everyone else it seemed like the two were close friends, perfectly at ease with each other's presence. However Adam got the sense that while it might be true Jazz didn't seem like he'd be willing to indulge Ironhide with the same information he had freely given to Adam, which made the detective's mood rise at the thought. Perhaps he was special to Jazz. He came out of his thoughts when Jazz began to dismiss his friend in favor of going to his appointment.

"Hatchet in a good mood?"

"Ah'd be careful 'round him, but yeah. He don't seem like he's gonna blow his top when he sees ya kid." Raymond laughed, a deep rich sound that reverberated from his stomach. "It's 'Jack ya gotta look out for today. Ah nearly got mahself blown up earlier gettin' curious 'bout one of his gadget thingumibobs."

"Lesson learned, then?" Jazz sniggered with his last parting shot as he dodged a friendly punch, and disappeared inside. Adam traipsed in after him, and found himself a clean, neat lobby that felt a little too sterilized for his taste. Jasper motioned for him to follow, and the brunette tailgated his partner, not wanting to get lost in the maze of identical-looking corridors that the back of the lobby seemed to morph into.

Eventually they stopped outside a large double door labeled 'Optical Engineering', and Jazz was refrained from knocking when they heard shouting voices inside. They looked at each other with raised eyebrows, and then Jazz put a finger to his lips with a cheeky grin before pressing his ear to the door. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but there were definitely three voices in there. "Sounds like Percy's joined 'em," he commented before straightening and knocking twice. He was amused when the shouting abruptly stopped, and he could almost see Ryan and Wade glaring at each other while Percy stood warily and quietly to one side, chipping in only occasionally to try and ease tempers.

The door swung open to reveal the annoyed visage of a light, gray-brown haired man, short but with a lot of presence. His face turned to a good-natured glare when he saw Jasper.

"You were supposed to be here half an hour ago, Lieutenant," he said.

"I know, sorry Doc. Lost track o' m'self at th'shootin' range." He gestured towards Adam. "Remember I told ya I'd joined Detroit PD? Meet m'partner in crime, Detective Adam McCallen."

Adam sent the darker man an exasperated look. Really, 'partner in crime'? The expression wasn't missed by the other man, presumably Ryan, who looked thoroughly amused and patted the detective on the shoulder.

"Discovered how hopeless he is yet?"

"You have no idea. I'm not sure 'protocol' is in his dictionary," Adam remarked, nodding.

The man laughed. "Along with several other words relating to rules, regulations and safety. Name's Ryan, by the way. I'm the surgeon who put Jazz's gear in his head. These two glitches are Percy and Wade, the designers." Adam nodded at a silver-haired man with a ridged face-mask on and a younger-looking man with round glasses and mahogany hair.

"Knew th'voices in m'head were yer fault, Rai," quipped the lieutenant, and Ryan tossed the pen he'd been holding at Jasper's head, who ducked it with a giggle.

"Checking to see if Jazz's visor will blow up anytime soon?" asked Adam, and Ryan gave a bark of laughter.

"Hey Wade, you're famous! Even Adam here knows about your explosive tendencies!"

"Oh shut up." Wade gave them both a mild glare. "I'm not that bad."

"So you say." Ryan turned around to Jasper, motioning with his fingers for something. Jazz obliged by taking off his visor and pressing it into the surgeon's waiting hand, then laying down on an examination table. Ryan picked up a few tools and a scanner, setting them back down next to Jazz's head. "Face to your right, Jasper." He did, and Ryan picked up a screwdriver off the table and started to remove the covering of the left implant.

Adam watched Ryan work on his partner in silence, settling himself in a corner. The surgeon was methodical, precise and very fast, and Adam wondered if he wasn't a medic as well. He seemed to know too much about what would make Jazz comfortable and what wouldn't than a general surgeon would. Their patients were generally unconscious and therefore didn't care about whether they were comfortable or not. Ryan was gentle with his touch, but the detective quickly surmised he had the sharpest tongue of anyone he had ever met and it was highly amusing the hear the teases, taunts and heckling being thrown about by Jazz, Ryan and Wade, with Percy joining in occasionally. He had to join in the raucous laughter when Percy, in a bout of extremely rare mischievousness, snuck up behind Wade who was working steadfastly on something and yelled, "KABOOM!" extremely loudly, causing the poor inventor to jump a mile and then start swearing up a storm while chasing the other scientist around the lab.

When Percy was finally caught and thoroughly noogied by Wade, said silver-haired man scowled and gave his friend a pointed look. "The twins I'd expect that from, but you Perce?"

"Who do you think I got the idea from?" returned the red-head with a smirk. Adam just shook his head and ducked it to hide a widening grin. Jazz really knew how to make the weirdest of friends, and apparently right where to find them.

Ten minutes later, Ryan announced he was done with his inspection and repairs, handing Jasper back his visor and telling him to keep up the good work of looking after his equipment. The lieutenant agreed and clapped his friend on the shoulder, sending his partner a contented look. "Thanks, Rai. 'Preciate it."

"You damn well better," the surgeon sniped playfully. "Now, get your afts outta here."

"But I-"

"GET. No being cheeky." Ryan put one hand on his hips while the other pointed towards the door. Jasper chucked a nearby pen at him, in retaliation for throwing one at him when he first came, and darted out the door before the medic could strike back, tugging Adam with him and yelling, "Bye Doc! See ya next time!". He lead Adam back through the maze of corridors quite quickly into the still far-too-sterile lobby, neither of them realizing it was their hands that were entwined, not even when Jazz let go as they reached his car.

"Back to th'station fer more work?" he asked amiably, and Adam nodded. They needed to find Russell's men before they got too far.

* * *

**Rae:** Next chapter will have more in it, promise! x


	3. Chapter 3

**Rae:** Updated again! Geez, I might be getting the hang of this updating thing!

Many luffles, hugs and yelling for 'MOAR!' to my Beta once again. (sniggers)

* * *

Jasper watched his partner from across the room. His rimless glasses were perched neatly on the end of his nose, and nimble fingers danced across the keyboard typing faster than Jazz ever could. He was obviously concentrating hard on something, or whatever it was he was doing had really caught his interest, because his eyes were narrowed at the screen, his brow was furrowed and his lips were pursed in thought. Grinning, Jazz slipped out of his seat and glided silently to a spot right behind Adam. A glance at the screen told Jazz that the detective was researching not only any similar bank robberies in and around Detroit, but also anything he could dig up on Morgan Russell. Jazz leaned in so his head was right next to Adam's ear, reading one of the articles silently, and then he spoke.

"Charity giver my ass. It's probably money he stole from 'em in th'firs' place."

Adam reacted just as Jazz predicted he would. He jumped a mile, letting loose a few choice swear words, and swung round with an instinctive attack. Jazz blocked it easily, dissolving into helpless giggles at his partner's flushed, confused face. The brunette's expression darkened and he scowled, unamused, at the darker man.

"Dammit, Jazz! Don't do that! You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"'M sorry man," gasped Jazz, laughter subsiding. "I couldn't help it; you were far too focussed 'n tense. Who knew yeh could swear better than Rai?"

Adam sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You're impossible." He took off his glasses, closing and rubbing at his eyes. "I can't find anything that would tell us why Russell would want to steal from a bank when he's ridiculously well-funded as it is." He opened one bright blue eye to give Jasper a curious look. "Where did you meet the gruesome threesome?"

Jasper snorted, going off into giggles once more. "'Gruesome threesome'... Man, Prowler, yer a riot sometimes. Would I b' rubbin' off on yeh a little?" He settled down again quickly, but the wide grin never left his face. Adam wondered if it actually ever did. "It was in LA, met 'em while I was with m'gang. Not an experience 'm in any hurry t'repeat."

"Los Angeles?" Adam looked surprised. "I didn't realize Russell's influence had spread that far."

"Dude, Russell's got international influence." Jazz waved a hand vaguely in the air. "'Sides, I don' think this was his idea."

"Then whose?"

"His three lackeys. They may b' his, but they're still street kids. They're jus' street kids who got a taste o'th'bigger thrills 'n went lookin' fer some themselves." The dreadlocked man shook his head and shrugged. "I ain't gettin' th'sense Russell knew 'bout this."

Adam frowned. "I still do not understand why you're saying that. What on Earth makes you think Russell wasn't aware?"

"I..." Jazz faltered, grin fading. "I still have a couple o' contacts in th'underground. All they're sayin' is it's real quiet with Russell at th'minute, so if it was him he's really keepin' it under th'radar."

"I would hardly expect him to advertise it. It only takes one snitch to get him caught, or at least in a whirlwind of trouble."

"True, but usually there's a flurry o' activity if Russell's dealin' or whatnot."

Adam's head fell back onto the desk with a groan. "This is getting too illogical. Can we focus on something else for a while, let it sink in?" Jazz chuckled and meandered back to his own desk to flick through a couple of reports.

"We can either go fer a possible arson or a homicide. Which sounds more fun?" Jasper waved both sheets of paper, one in each hand, and the detective glared at him briefly before pointing ambiguously in the direction of Jazz's right hand.

"Whichever that one is. Right now, I don't give a damn."

"So we'll take th'homicide fer 200 bucks," quipped Jazz, putting the potential arson report back in the 'open' tray teetering precariously on the edge of his desk. "Pack yer things, we're headin' t'Hamtramck."

"Great." Adam opened his top desk drawer, taking out the wallet, gun and badge laying in it. He made sure the safety was on before stowing away the gun in its holster, clipped the badge to his belt and the wallet disappeared in his front pocket. Jazz was doing the same opposite him. "Reckon it was racially motivated?"

"I dunno, but that area's so racially diverse I wouldn't draw th'line at sayin' yes."

* * *

Flashing their badges at the officer on watch, Jazz and Adam ducked under the police tape surrounding the apartment and entered what could only be described as a battlefield. Chairs were tipped over and broken, the glass coffee table was smashed as was the dining table, a wooden cabinet that would otherwise have looked pretty regal in one corner now had two huge dents in it, the grain splintered and caved. There were even a few bullet holes in the walls, and fair amount of blood was dripped and flung around haphazardly. Jasper gave a low whistle.

"Looks like someone got too carried away with th'party-throwin'."

"Apparently so." Adam wrinkled his nose, stepping gingerly across the floor into the bedroom where their body was. He couldn't hear Jasper following him, but somehow he knew he was. It was confirmed when they saw the body and Jazz made a surprised noise. The detective turned to him questioningly to see a mixture of recognition, repulsion, confusion and a flash of satisfaction so brief he thought he'd imagined it on the darker man's face. "Jazz? Are you okay?"

"That's Denton," he said quietly, putting his hands on his hips and cocking them in resignation. "Blaze Denton, aka Blitzwing. He's one o' our gruesome threesome."

"Body's not more than a few hours old. Five at the most, maybe." The coroner examining the body, who until then had stayed silent and not acknowledged them, straightened and turned to face them. "As much blood as there is both in here and the other room, exsanguination is not the cause of death." Jazz walked over to the body while Adam contented himself to looking around and listening in. The coroner pointed out a hole in the right shoulder. "That shot would have incapacitated him, if perhaps only briefly, but certainly not killed him. Same with these two." He moved lower to two more bullet wounds in the abdomen. "He would have been bleeding a lot, explaining the amount in the living room, and had he been left alone then exsanguination would have been COD, but those aren't what concern me." The man pulled away the purple-tinted hair from the sides of Blaze's head, and Jasper's eyes narrowed. Small, round marks that could only be described as scorch marks were clearly visible burnt into the skin on his temples.

"Did his killer do what I'm thinkin' he did?" muttered the dark-skinned man, and the coroner nodded.

"Yeah. COD was electricution of the brain. I'm betting it's fried or scrambled brains for breakfast when I get this sorry mess to autopsy."

Jasper turned around in time to see his partner shudder. "That's horrendous," he stated disgustedly. "Nothing more."

"I'm puttin' money on Octane doin' this, assumin' it was his mates that killed him. He's a monster, but he hates drawin' things out. Donovan woulda jus' let him bleed t'death, sadist that he is."

"But why rob a bank in downtown Detroit and then come back up here with it only to shoot one of their partners and disappear off again? It's not going over well with me."

"Maybe this was a safe house o' theirs, Denton started t'get cold feet 'n Donovan n' Octane weren't havin' that." Jasper moved over to Adam and put a hand on his shoulder. "Toldja they were ruthless."

"It's possible." Adam's blue eyes swept over the room one last time before he marched out, motioning for Jazz to follow. The dreadlocked man did until they got back out into the corridor outside the flat where he promptly moved himself up to Adam's right side. "Let's go check out the neighbors and the kids around here. Surely someone must have seen something."

"Maybe so, but in communities like this they don' like like talkin' t'strangers, 'specially cops. They hate cops with a passion."

"Still, we should try."

"Alright, yer th'boss." Jasper reached up and unwound the small band keeping his dreads tied up in a ragged ponytail at the back of his head, shaking his head to loose the matted coils of hair until they hung tamed yet unruly around his face. At his partner's questioning look he shrugged. "Always wore m'hair like this on th'street. Most kids do. Kinda identifies meh 'n it's easier t'talk t'one o' yer own, if yeh get m'drift."

A pause as Adam cocked his head to one side. "Makes sense, I suppose."

"An' don't let on yer a detective unless yeh have t', 's jus' askin' fer trouble." They stopped outside the first door they came across that looked like it had inhabitants, and Adam rapped smartly on the chipped and paint-deprived wood. There was a pause, a vague and pretty brief scuffle from behind the door, and then the unmistakable sound of a chain latch and a deadbolt sliding across. The face of a young woman, sharp and looking thoroughly irritated framed by dirty blonde hair peered through the gap.

"What?" She snapped. Jazz flipped her his most charming smile, and Adam wasn't sure whether to roll his eyes and facepalm or laugh when she relaxed a bit and opened the door a little wider, a flash of definite interest sweeping her pointed features. He settled for narrowing his eyes at her instead.

"Sorry t'bother yeh, li'l lady, but we're wonderin' if yeh knew anythin' 'bout what's happenin' down th'corridor? We're on our way back t' our flat, but th'coppers won't tell us nothin'."

"Yeah well they're coppers ain't they? They won't give you no information if ya got on your knees and begged for it." The woman put a hand on her hip and eyed them both. "You ain't coppers, are ya?"

"Nope. We got th'more... interestin' end o'th'stick," grinned Jazz disarmingly, and the woman nodded with a slight smirk.

"I see. Well, I don't know much, but what I do know was I heard angry voices few hours ago and they just louder and louder. I was gonna go tell them to shut the fuck up, but when I was opening my door I heard gunshots and decided not to interfere. Guns ain't exactly uncommon here, but they still ain't something ya mess with."

"How many shots?" asked Adam, and immediately gray eyes were scanning him with an unreadable expression.

"I dunno. Nine, maybe ten. Fuck if I was going to find out."

"Don' mind him, he's th'gun buff out o'th'two o' us." Jazz poked his partner good-naturedly. "Yeh hear anythin' else? We heard someone say sommat 'bout electrocution, but we didn't hear what th'reference was."

"A scream. After the gun shots, coupla minutes. Maybe someone was electrocuted." The blonde frowned. "Sommat new round here, I'll give ya that."

"That's jus' gross." The darker man pulled a face. "Well, thanks anyway, 'preciate th'info. I think yeh've satisfied our curiosity fer now." Jasper winked at the woman, and she drew up and gave him a smug expression in return. As they swung round to leave, she shot out a parting question.

"Hey handsome, ya selling?"

Jazz shook his head, looking apologetic. "Sorry babe, all sold out. Nex' time, swear it!"

"You better." She waggled her fingers at them in goodbye and shut the door, latching it again with thunks of metal hitting metal that could be heard down the hallway.

Jazz turned to Adam then. "So roughly ten shots. Fits what th'crime scene cops told us."

"You're far too good at wheedling information out of people," accused Adam on a sudden subject shift. "She took barely any cajoling to spill her story." Jasper appeared surprised at the allegation, but quickly scrapped the expression in favor of a cheeky, slightly vain one.

"I toldja, they're more willin' t'talk t' one o'their own."

"Pretending to be a drug dealer, or were you actually one?" snapped the brunette scathingly, but immediately regretted it when hurt and anger marred Jazz's handsome face briefly.

"That's strictly a need-t'-know basis, _partner_, 'n yeh don't need t'know," shot back the dreadlocked man succintly, scowling.

"I'm sorry, Jazz, I didn't mean..." Adam sighed, running a hand down his face. "I didn't mean that. My apologies. Something about this whole thing is getting under my skin."

"Well, there ain't any need t'take it out on me," the other huffed, glaring.

"I know, I know. I'm really sorry." Adam placed a placating hand on his partner's shoulder, and was glad when it wasn't shaken off. He was more than a little surprised when one of Jazz's hands came up to cover his own, and golden eyes swung to face him unseeingly.

"It's alright." A ghost of a grin swept full lips. "Didn't know yeh were capable o' such low blows, man."

"Shush." Adam felt his hand being squeezed gently before it was released, and he brought his hand back to his side. "Shall we do some more apartments?"

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Adam settled back in the cushy seats of Jasper's Porsche, studying his partner's profile. The man's face was relaxed but with an edgy worriedness that wasn't really discernable unless you were looking specifically for it. Jazz had obviously been pretty far down the wrong path before, and for quite a while at that. The brunette hadn't wanted to ask in case the darker man didn't want to talk about it, but Adam's curiosity was growing about how Jasper had managed to right his ship and set himself back on course. Who or what was his compass?

Jazz chose that moment to take a glance at Adam, and the edginess his face had barely been displaying vanished almost instantly as his lips pulled upwards in a grin.

"Yeh look like yeh either wanna ask meh sommat real bad, Prowler, or yeh've taken a shine t'this pretty face o' mine. Which is it?"

Adam flushed slightly and glared at the driver. "If you really must know, I was pondering whether to ask you something and don't call me Prowler."

"Ask meh what? An' hell, Prowl, y'know yeh don' mind meh callin' yeh that." There was silence as Jazz took the next right and waited for his partner to answer, but as it dragged on and Adam showed no signs of getting over his hesitation the darker man sighed. "Man, jus' spill already. What is it?"

"I just..." The brunette bit his bottom lip. "What made you want to be on the force, Jazz? I mean, for Pete's sake you were a gang member. Gang members don't just wake up one day and suddenly want to become a law enforcer."

"Love how yeh hate usin' th'word 'cop'," remarked the driver, throwing on the indicator to turn left and stopping at a red light, engine purring idly. "An' I think that's an explanation fer when we're not on duty. What 'bout dinner tonight? I know a good Vietnamese restaurant near m'flat, if yeh like that. My treat."

Adam considered, a little thrown and startled by the sudden invitation. "Vietnamese sounds good."

"Sweet. I'll wait fer yeh when we're done later, then."

They both settled back into quietude, Jazz wondering just what the remaining two of the gruesome threesome were actually thinking and what they wanted while Adam was wrapped in his thoughts that were trying to unravel the enigma that was Jasper Miles. He seemed to have too many layers to go through, far more than any normal person should ever accumulate in their lifetime, let alone the mere 26 years Jazz had been alive. But, the brunette decided, that wasn't going to stop him. He wanted - no, _needed_ to tap into Jazz, know him like no one else and that scared him. How on Earth had he got so... so... _obsessed _with the cheeky, spontaneous, dreadlocked man sitting next to him? Adam shuddered and sank lower in his seat. Jazz, his mind stated, was a whirlwind that had just danced into his life and turned it upside down in no time at all.

And for some reason, Adam was not rejecting the change. He was just going with the flow, accepting it more and more, which was incredibly unlike him. He hated instability.

He needed a good long workout in the gym to blow off some steam when they got back to the station.

* * *

Adam's breathing was rapid but steady, even, counted. He was balanced on the balls of his feet, slightly crouched, before he sprang up to twist his body round, bringing his leg up in an arc to smash straight into the punching bag in front of him. As soon as his base foot hit the floor he was swinging his arm through the air to land a solid punch on the material, very quickly followed by his other hand. He kept up the barrage of relentless attacks on the aparatus, unaware he had an audience until a wisecracking comment brought him out of his focussed trance.

"What did that poor defenseless thing ever do t'yeh, Prowler?"

"Jazz." Adam straightened, shaking his limbs out with the air of someone having done merely a light run. "What are doing here?"

"Lookin' fer yeh. Promised yeh'd go fer dinner tonight, remember?" The darker man looked thoughtful. "Yeh look like yer tryin' t'get sommat outta yer system. Try a sparrin' partner, tends t'work better fer meh than an inanimate object." Jasper slipped off his jacket and holster, letting them drop to the floor around his ankles. His boots followed quickly, and he started to move onto the sparring mat.

Adam shook his head and waved a hand as his breathing slowed. "No, thank you Jazz. Tomorrow maybe. Give me five minutes to warm down and take a quick shower, and then I'll join you."

Jazz relaxed, smiling. "If yeh say so. But I'm always here t'whale on if yeh suddenly feel th'urge t'." He caught his things as Adam tossed them at him and chuckled. He put his jacket and shoes back on, but didn't bother with the holster and its gun. He waited on one of the benches until Adam came back out six minutes later, rubbing at his long, damp hair vigorously with a towel. He knocked Jazz's hand away when the lieutenant ruffled it playfully with a cackle.

"Ain't yeh gonna dry it?"

"There's no hair dryer in there," sniffed Adam. "So no."

"I've got one at my place, we can stop there fer a few minutes. Unless yeh wanna go t' a restaurant with wet hair." Jazz got a towel in the face and a 'yes please' for his comment, and when he emerged he was grinning. Adam rolled his eyes and pushed at the younger man to get back to his car. They left together in a companionable silence which lasted all the way to Jazz's Porsche, before Adam broke it with a question.

"What about my car? How will I get to work tomorrow?"

"Ah." Jazz paused in digging around for his keys in his pocket and looked over at Adam's Datsun. "Well, yeh can either follow meh with it 'n go home after dinner, or yer more'n welcome t'crash at my place 'n I'll drive us both in th'mornin'. Take yer pick, I ain't choosey."

Adam considered for a minute. "You have a spare bed?"

"It's either share mine or th'sofa bed. Ain't used th'sofa bed ferever, though."

"Then I think I'll take you up on your offer." Adam sent Jazz a small smile. "We can get to know each other more, maybe."

"Mine 'n a long night o' girly gossip it is, then," snickered Jasper, and resumed the pocket delving for keys, finding them with a triumphant noise and unlocking the car. The brunette slid into his seat, wondering what exactly he was doing.

* * *

"And I'll have the bánh cuốn," said Adam, handing the waiter his menu with a smile. Jazz grinned.

"Nice pronunciation."

Adam shrugged, leaning back in his seat and sipping his wine. "Thanks."

"Mmm, I've not been here in _ages_. Their bò kho is t'die fer." Jazz's voice lowered to a stage conspiritorial whisper for his last sentence, eyebrows waggling mischievously. Adam snorted and looked away so the dreadlocked man wouldn't see his widening grin. Really, Jasper seemed to have a talent for making people have a good time whether they started out wanting to or not. He raised an eyebrow when Jazz brought out a small glass vial from inside his jacket, and snatched it before the younger could do anything.

"Jazz..."

Said man looked sheepish. "Sorry. Thanks." It was thrown gently back at him, hitting him squarely on the forehead. A mock glare and good-natured shove under the table had them both sniggering.

The good mood was dampened slightly when Jazz added, "I promised yeh I'd spill what made meh go on th'straight 'n narrow, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did." Adam took another swig of his glass and leaned his elbows on the table, chin resting on interlocked fingers. Jazz sighed.

"When I was in LA, we got int' this fight with another local gang one night. Th'tension'd been buildin' fer ages, 'n it finally came down t'this really big shoot-out. I got shot, right here." He pressed his fingers to a spot a couple inches below his ribcage on his left side. "I went on fer a while, but I pushed mehself too hard. Didn't help I got shot again in th'same side. I passed out from bloodloss." Jazz lowered his golden eyes to his cutlery and began to finger the knife absently. "When I came too, th'firs' thing I noticed was I didn't hurt so much no more. Th'second thing I noticed were th'bandages, 'n th'third thing I noticed was a guy tendin' t' a cut on m'leg. What was really odd was th'tat on th'arm facin' me was th'symbol o' th'gang we'd been fightin'. He was on th'opposite side t'me, 'n yet he was helpin' me. I asked him, 'why?' right off th'bat. He was startled I was conscious, but he bounced back like it hadn't phased him. He didn't answer though, 'n he seemed t'have no ill intent. I let him work." The knife spun round on the table thanks to a prodding finger.

"I was in his company fer 'bout two weeks while I recovered enough t'leave, 'n in that time I learnt his name, his reason fer joinin' his gang 'n why he saved me. He did it 'cause he said he saw th'same spirit in me he had, which was a willin'ness t'help people rather than hurt 'em. I had t'admit he had a point. I hated it every time we got in a turf or revenge war. He told me o' his plans t'get enough money from workin' with his gang 'n then bail t'go on t' b' a doctor. It was his dream." Jazz grimaced. "He never got th'chance. Four days after I left him, we were at war with his gang again. An' this time he got shot, but there was nothin' I could do t'save him. Right through th'heart, it was. He told me not t'stay, t'go somewhere I could do good, take his money. He died in my arms. I decided then 'n there he was right, enough was enough. I left th'nex' day with his money, used it t'pay a deposit t'get int'th'police academy 'n fer th'removal of m' gang tat. Nex' thing I know, badda-bing, badda-boom. I'm here as yer partner." Golden eyes raised up to try meet with conflicted blue ones, waiting.

Adam remained silent, taking it in. In a way, it explained a lot about Jazz's high tolerence levels and inclination to offer at least one chance to people to prove themselves in the right. It also explained his ostensible ability to take death in his stride, like with Denton's body earlier. He'd had the worst of it, a friend die whilst he could do nothing. "That's powerful," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Don' b'." Jazz composed himself, sitting more upright. "I'm livin' fer th'both o' us now."

"That's why you told me it was the best thing I could do for Kyle," Adam realized, tilting his head to one side. "You knew what it was like."

"Exactly." The lieutenant paused as their starters arrived, shooting the waiter a smile. "Now, anythin' else yeh wanna know?"

"Nothing morbid. I've had enough of that for one day." Adam touched Jasper's hand in a comforting gesture. "Thank you for telling me."

"No problem." A small smile graced Jazz's lips, before they quirked into a smirk and he abruptly changed the subject. "Now, tell me, how many girlfriends have yeh had 'n what were they like?"

* * *

**Rae:** Ooooh, straight to the point, Jazz! :D Next chappie up soon as I can, with a slightly different viewpoint this time. You'll see what I mean! Love yous all x


	4. Chapter 4

**Rae:** Sorry about the update wait, guys! I actually had this alllll written out on Friday last week, but somehow between walking from my neighbor's house where'd I'd been writing while babysitting and my house the memory stick I had it stored on got corrupted. I've had to re-write as much as I could from memory and wing it for the rest.

I also expect updates will start to be a little slower now that my university work is picking up, so I shall apologize in advance for that as well. Rest assured I have no plans to stop this any time soon.

Many luffles and hugs (and Heath and Thane!) as always to my Beta! x

* * *

"They did _WHAT_?" Morgan Russell glared at his second-in-command in outrage. "Why am I only hearing about this _now_, Spencer?"

"Because the police kept it wrapped up pretty tight," grumbled his right-hand man. "I told Warren to pass on the message to you, but apparently his memory banks are glitching." He shot a glare across to a purple-haired man, slightly younger than himself, who just sent him a sheepish grin in return.

"I don't give a shit about who was supposed to tell me what! I should have known this fucking hours ago!" Morgan growled, almost to the point of being feral. He swung round to the last of the three men in his company, a so-far silent man with black hair and bright blue streaks running through it. "Find them. I want them back here in front of me by tomorrow noon."

The man bowed slightly and left, the trenchcoat he wore swishing elegantly behind him before disappearing along with its wearer. Morgan turned back to the remaining men. "At least Thane is reliable, unlike you two failures," he spat.

"But my Lord-"

"I don't want to hear it." The crime lord put his hands on his desk and hung his head. "I don't know why I put you as my second in command, Spencer. And you, Skype, you're just useless."

The purple-haired man flinched. "My Lord, I'm-"

"I _said_ I didn't want to hear it. Get out, both of you, and find me those traitors!" Russell slammed a hand back down on the wooden desk, and his two companions left hurriedly with a 'meep' from Warren. There was silence for a couple minutes, and then a figure emerged from the shadows, auburn eyes blank to match his expression.

"Suggestion. Hurry. Police are in pursuit also." Morgan was quite used to the way his information specialist talked now, however strange it was. He appreciated it, really. It was refreshing, direct, to the point. Certainly the figure didn't beat around the bush like most of his useless forces seemed to do a lot of. That, sadly, didn't improve his mood. In fact, the man's words just worsened it.

"Tell Spencer, Warren and Thane to get more into the hunt, then. We have no time to waste."

"Yes sir." The figure became shadow once more, and Morgan groaned. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Adam watched his partner in the kitchen making them both something hot to drink from where he was sat on the pulled-out sofa-bed in Jazz's living room. Adam wanted coffee, but Jazz had declared he hated the stuff and was brewing himself some peppermint tea instead. An unusual drink for an unusual man, thought the brunette in amusement. His gaze shifted from his partner to the flat. It was small, cozy. A tidy kitchen opened into a small living room, where Adam would be sleeping. From the living room there was a short corridor leading to a fully-fitted bathroom and the master, or Jazz's, bedroom. Adam found he really liked the flat; it was simple yet stylish.

Jazz finished in the kitchen and came through with two steaming mugs, passing the one filled with black, bitter liquid (and one sugar) to the brunette with a bright smile and holding onto his own mug. He carefully planted himself on the other side of the bed with his drink and the TV remote, and he switched it on and flicked through the channels, eventually settling on a Bourne Supremacy premiere. They sat and watched in silence for quite a while, drinking and just enjoying each other's company.

Adam made a noise of surprise when something unexpectedly touched his bare feet, and Jazz abruptly pulled his own feet away. "Sorry, man."

"It's alright. You just scared me, that's all." Adam sent him a small smile, which was returned tenfold. Feet tentatively touched his again, and Adam pushed them in a rare bout of playfulness. They were pushed back, and suddenly both of them were in an all-out Footsie war, snickering and occasionally poking or prodding each other with fingers.

When they settled down again a couple minutes later, Adam was acutely aware their feet were still entwined, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he just relished the feel of Jazz's smooth skin against his own, and took the opportunity of Jasper's TV-distracted attention to look him over while taking what remained of his coffee off its mat on the floor. He had full lips, a typical feature of his obviously, if only half, African-American heritage, and a small, slightly snub nose. Brilliant gold eyes, while dulled by their inability to see, still lit up with something if he had a particularly strong emotion. High cheekbones rounded off an oval face perfectly. In short, to Adam he was exquisite.

As if sensing Adam's gaze, Jasper turned around to meet it, and Adam had to fight a flush at being caught staring. A lazy, cheeky grin curled at Jazz's lips.

"Y'know," he said casually, "yeh told meh 'bout yer girlfriend, so what 'bout boyfriends? Had any?"

Adam spluttered on a sip of his coffee. "What?! Where did that come from?"

Jazz sniggered. "Man, it ain't like I care either way. I was jus' curious."

The brunette studied his partner for a few seconds. "No," he said finally. "Not me. What about you, Oprah?" Jazz shoved at him lightly for the jibe.

"Yeah, once. An officer at m'previous station. Thought we had it good, til he found a really pretty skirt t'chase 'n left meh high 'n dry. Shame too, he was jus' m'type."

"I'm sorry."

"Don' b'. Turned out he was skimmin' money off meh anyway. Not much, but he was." Jazz shrugged one shoulder. "He was th'last relationship I had." He smiled lightly, then turned his attentions back to the TV, apparently done asking Adam awkward questions for now. The brunette, however, kept his on the younger man, contemplating silently.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly when his feelings had grown from reluctant friendship to something much more, nor could he answer how it had happened in only a few short days, but there they were. He really couldn't deny it. However, as his gaze slid away from the lieutenant back to the TV he promised himself he wouldn't tell Jazz anything nor would he let it show, until and if the African-American himself showed any more interest than friendship. Their connection as good friends was something he didn't want to ruin.

* * *

The next morning Jasper and Adam stepped into the station's small, cozy lobby from the garage, intent on going to their shared office, but were stopped at the sight of two late-teenage boys arguing with their main receptionist, Dana. The silver-haired girl was looking anything but happy, and Adam was about to ask what was going on when Jazz stepped in.

"Yo Sunny, Sidam! What's up?"

"Jazz!" Two simultaneous voices turned to them as the boys themselves did, and Adam was suddenly faced with a pair of identical twins. One had red highlights running through his dark-brown hair and a mischievous glint in his eyes, while the other one had blond highlights and a sullen look about him.

"What're yeh doin' here, guys?" Jazz looked surprised, but bumped fists with them both.

"We got something to tell you. It's important," The red-haired twin piped up, and then he noticed Adam. A sly grin slid onto his face. "Well heeelllllooooooo... Jazz, you got yourself a cute one this time!"

"Oh stuff it, Sides. This here's m'partner Adam. Adam, these two are Sidam 'n Sunny Kihm, th'cheekiest twins yeh'll ever come across." Jazz gestured to both boys.

"So I noticed." Adam raised an eyebrow. "Pleasure to meet you both."

"Same here," Sidam grinned. "Now, can we go to your office? This can't wait, it really can't."

Jazz nodded and crooked a finger to signal them to follow him, and he and Adam continued their interrupted walk to their office, the twins trailing them. As soon as they got in Adam went to his desk and pulled a few papers from his tray, putting his glasses on. Sunny and Sidam perched themselves on Jazz's desk, while the lieutenant himself flopped into his chair. "Alright, shoot," he said.

"We know where-"

"-your fugitives are. Right now. But-"

"-at a price. Russell knows-"

"-that we're snitches," finished Sunny with a frown. "There's no way we can go back into the field."

Both of the partners stood up at that, snatching up their stuff. "Where are they?" Adam demanded.

"North end of town. Chaldean Town, Highland Park estate complex, 8th floor, apartment 816," supplied Sidam.

"Thanks. Stay here, yeh'll be safe." Jazz left with Adam as the brunette activated his comm to call for additional officers.

"Better hurry! If we know where they are then it's a guarantee Russell does too!" hollered Sidam after them as they disappeared out of sight.

Adam hung up on the communications. "_They_ are your underground contacts? They're just kids!" He holstered his gun as they ran to the garage.

"They volunteered fer it! I still needed contacts 'n they wanted t'do sommat positive with themselves. What could I do t'stop 'em?" Jazz shot him a look. "An' anyway, we got more pressin' matters."

"Benjamin, Raji, Heath and Byron will meet us there," Adam agreed reluctantly. "Let's hurry."

* * *

Jazz silently pulled back the slide of his gun, making sure it was loaded, and he closed his eyes, turning off his visor briefly too. He breathed evenly, steadily, slowly. In... out... in... out... He reactivated the visor, nodding at a blue-haired man on the opposite frame of the door to him. Jazz stood up and smashed the door in with his boot, leveling his gun at two more men in the room who looked thoroughly startled and apparently in the middle of a huge row. Adam and four others, including the blue-haired man, moved in before Donovan and Octane could react and draw their own weapons. Both fugitives were restrained quickly and efficiently, and Adam nodded in satisfaction.

Astro, though, didn't seem to like the idea of being restrained, and wriggled free of his captor and clocked him the jaw. Using the momentary stun to his advantage, he took off sprinting to the door. However, he didn't see Jazz move from his right to block the door and his path, stopping Donovan with a swift kick to the gut and a double-fisted drop punch to his back. A heel pressed right where fists had hit kept the man down while the blue-haired man cuffed him quickly, and a hand tossed something that looked like a remote swiped from Donovan's pocket up in the air.

"Yer gonna have t'do better than that t'get away from meh, Donovan," smirked Jazz. Astro's eyes widened at the sound of his voice.

"No way, man..."

"Well crap," was Octane's helpful reply.

"Weren't expectin' meh, were yeh?" The African-American's smirk widened. "Nice job guys, thanks. Raji, Byron, can yeh get these two back t'th'station? I've got a few questions t'ask 'em." Jazz gestured out, and the blue-haired man hauling Donovan to his feet nodded at the same time a man with red hair and a ponytail voiced his agreement while pushing at Octane.

"I think we all do, Jazz," said Adam dryly, helping Raji with Donovan. The Egyptian man looked grateful; he wasn't really the strongest man on the force and didn't want another deck to his bruising jaw. Jazz grinned and turned to a blond man just getting off his phone, presumably to Orion to tell him they'd caught their fugitives.

"Hey Benji, c'mon, we're on driver duty."

"It's Ben or Benjamin, Jazz, not 'Benji'." The blond man frowned good-naturedly. "Honestly."

"They're not fun names. Can yeh get forensics in?" Jazz waved and disappeared out the door following Byron and Heath taking Octane away when Ben affirmed they were on their way. He had some rather difficult customers to deal with now.

* * *

"What was it, Donovan? Get tired o' workin' fer Morgan as lackeys 'n went lookin' fer more excitement?" Jazz pursed his lips in thought, and then grinned icily. "Yeh realize o' course that Russell probably knows what yeh did 'n he ain't happy 'bout th'attention it'll b' gettin' him. He'll b' after yeh. Both o' yeh."

Donovan just scowled, hard burgundy eyes following the lieutenant. Jazz didn't seem fazed by the lack of response, merely shrugged and leaned back against the one-way glass separating Orion and Byron from him and his interrogatee. "It ain't mah head that's on th'line, man. Yeh can talk or keep silent, ain't gonna change th'fact Russell's out fer blood."

Donovan's scowl turned to angered curiosity. "Man, you shouldn't talk. What the fuck are you doing working for the law? You get bored? I'm surprised they let you in, Foxtrot. You're a gang-runner, always will be."

"An' believe meh when I say those skills have come in real handy since," Jazz shot back. "I ain't gone by Foxtrot in years. It's Lieutenant Miles now, Donovan."

"You did your best work alone, Foxtrot. What changed?"

"I got a partner 'n one o'th'best friends I've had in a long, long time, that's what." Jazz's hands slammed down on the table. "Dammit Donovan! What did yeh need th'money fer? Russell was hardly skimpin' in expenses!"

"You realize Octane's hidden a fair amount of the nitroglycerine and has it wired to blow on a remote command, right?" Donovan raised an eyebrow, dancing around the question.

"Oh, yeh mean this I pickpocketed off yeh 'n disabled?" The dreadlocked man pulled out the small device he'd filched off the other. Donovan's eyes narrowed. "Funny how it came from yer pocket 'n not Octane's," he stated conversationally to a quiet 'that bastard' from Donovan. "C'mon, man. This ain't yer style."

There was a pause. "It's always the same stuff," Astro sneered, leaning over to Jazz. "We always do his dirty work, the work he doesn't want to sully his hands with. Lately he's been getting more and more obnoxious, and taking it out on us. Hard. We wanted to show him there were some of us who weren't willing to take his crap and could do something big on their own." The man snorted and tilted his chair back on two legs, facing away from the African-American. "He made it far too easy for us to get what we needed to pull it off, but Blitzwing decided he wanted out of the whole thing _after_ the fucking heist and was prepared to fight us. He attacked us, I only shot him in self-defense and in non-lethal areas. I wanted to leave him, but Casey wasn't having that. He fucking murdered Blaze, man. We high-tailed it outta there to where you lot busted us. We were fighting over Blaze. I was telling him he shouldn't have killed him, Casey argued he would have ratted us all out and we'd all be dead." Astro shrugged.

"So tell meh, where's Russell?" Jasper lifted one hand from the table to a hip, leaning on the one still resting on the metal surface.

"He'll have moved by now," said Donovan. "But when I last saw him he was here." The man reached into his jacket, presumably an inside pocket, and pulled out a sheaf of papers which he slid across to Jazz. "I don't owe him anything. Tell him I said 'hi', would you Foxtrot?"

"As long as yeh stop callin' meh that." Jazz picked up the papers, studying them. They were brochures for a series of warehouses in an abandoned industrial district in Toledo, a few miles south of Detroit. "Thanks, Donovan." He was about to leave to go into the observation room, but stopped at the door handle and turned to face the gang leader. "Jus' outta curiosity, why?"

"Why what?"

"Why tell meh all this? Why b' so... amiable? Yeh hate meh, especially after all I put yeh 'n yer buddies through back in LA."

"Actually," snickered Astro, "I was the least concerned about you. I found your saboteur skills impressive; I certainly saw why they called you Foxtrot. I hated you because of what you did to my other trine members, not for anything you did to me."

Jazz was silent for a moment. "I'll put in a good word fer yeh, Astro. Dunno what help it'll b'." He walked out quickly, the man's words having unnerved him somewhat. To have someone who had tried to kill you for a good number of years of your life suddenly turn out so affable and helpful was extremely disconcerting. He moved swiftly into the observation room, where he met Orion and Byron, both with raised eyebrows.

"Foxtrot? Seriously, man?" Byron grinned. "That's frickin' awesome. Boss, why don't we get cool names like that?"

Orion shot his communications specialist an exasperated look. "Because we don't need them," he sighed. "Good work, Jazz." The lieutenant saluted briefly with two fingers tapping his forehead. "Now we just need to find out where Russell has parked himself if he's not in Toledo anymore."

"Mayb' I can get that info," said Jazz. The commissioner gave him a questioning look. "Look, yeh know I'm a former gang runner 'n yeh know I know how t'work th'underground. Why don' I go undercover? Russell's never seen m'face, 'n the only men o' his I know who have're either dead or sittin' in interrogation." He thumbed towards Astro and then to the room where Adam was probing Octane for answers. "I can get what yeh want, I jus' need a bit o' time."

"No," said Orion sharply. "It's far too dangerous, Jazz. I will not willingly put one of my men into that kind of peril."

"I've been in far worse situations, sir. I'm th'best shot we've got at locatin' Russell now Sides 'n Sunny are compromised 'n yeh slaggin' well know it." Jazz's expression turned mulish, arms folded across his chest.

"I've a good mind to suspend you for that insubordinate tone," snapped Orion tightly. Byron wisely stayed silent, blue eyes switching warily between the two men who now seemed to be in a battle of wills.

"But yeh won'," said Jazz softly. He took off his visor, room fading instantly to black. "I bet I can tell yeh more 'bout what's happenin' inside this building in th'nex' minute than ya could gather in an hour. I can tell yeh what yeh had fer breakfast this mornin', I can tell yeh yer weight, height 'n general fitness level jus' from hearin' yeh walk 'n move... hell, I can even tell yeh 'bout that girlfriend yeh have. Slim, pretty, likes Prada perfumes. Probably not one o' them girly-girls either, can look after herself." Jazz tilted his head to one side. "I see more in a few minutes than most people will ever do in their lives, sir. I can look after mehself in th'field."

When the African-American snapped the visor back in place, he found Orion's expression was slightly flabbergasted. "How on Earth did you work out about Elita?" he demanded.

"Ah, that's her name? Pretty. I like it." Jazz patted his commander's shirt. "I can smell her perfume on yer shirt. It's strong. An' I know fer a fact yeh don' have a sister. Yeh don' seem th'type t'go fer big girls who ain't got common sense 'n a good head on their shoulders."

Orion frowned and sighed in resignation. He certainly had made an interesting choice bringing Jazz onto the force, but he was still reluctant to thrust the dreadlocked man into the field like that, ask that much of him. He was about to say something when the door opened, and Adam walked in stiffly followed by Ben and Raji.

"Octane's not talking," he muttered. "Stubborn slagger's trying to make an impossible deal."

"That's alright, Prowl. We've got Donovan's confession." Orion nodded to the interrogation room, where Astro appeared to have fallen asleep on the table, head pillowed by crossed arms.

"It's not Prowl, it's Adam," said the detective shortly, hands settling petulantly on his waist. "So you mean to tell me I've just wasted a good half hour trying to get something - _anything_ - from Octane when you had everything? Thanks for the memo."

"Sorry, Prowler. I woulda come told ya had I not been delayed." Jazz shot the commissioner a look, and Orion glared in response. Before Adam could say anything more, he spoke up.

"Alright, lieutenant. The briefing room, tomorrow morning, 10am sharp. I'll have Alex Redding for security check-overs and briefing and Simon Cooper for tactical planning. No promises," he added as Jazz's face brightened at the prospect of his idea being accepted.

"Am I missing something?" asked Adam, looking unsure.

"Apparently Jazz is going underground," replied Byron, shaking his head so his white bangs swung gently around his face. "Wish him luck, he's gonna fragging need it."

Adam's eyes widened, and they turned to meet Jazz's slightly nervous, apprehensive visage. His partner noticed and it vanished as he threw him a reassuring grin and a wink and disappeared out of the room with Byron, leaving the remaining officers to deal with their captives.

* * *

"For the last time, Jazz, it's way too dangerous! You can't!" Adam grabbed Jasper by the arm, halting him in his steps to the kitchen. The darker man turned to face him, a mixture of emotions adorning the handsome face.

"I ain't like I'm overly thrilled 'bout th'thought either, Prowler, but I'm th'best fer th'job! We all know it! Now that Sides 'n Sunny're outta th'picture, we need information on Russell if we're gonna take him down 'n fer that we need someone who knows th'underground. Who else d'yeh know was a former gang-runner?" Jazz held Adam's gaze steadily, but sadly, and Adam slowly let go.

"I just hate the idea of you putting yourself voluntarily in that much danger." The detective followed his partner into the kitchen. "Passionately."

"That much?" Jazz sounded surprised as he rummaged through the brunette's cupboards looking for a couple of mugs and something to make drinks from.

"Yes and the one above the microwave," added Adam. Jasper found and opened the cupboard, snatching up two mugs, the coffee tin and an herbal tea teabag.

"How come yer _that_ adverse t' it?" Jazz plonked the bag into one of the mugs and two teaspoons of coffee into the other, then filled up the kettle with water to boil.

"I... don't know," said Adam plaintively as Jazz clicked the kettle on. "I just am."

"Worried 'bout meh? That's sweet, Prowler." Jazz grinned and placed a comforting hand on the other's shoulder, though whether it was for Adam's sake or to ease his own apprehension was unknown to him.

The older man tolerated the hand for a minute, and then he slipped it off, interweaving their fingers and pushing the smaller lieutenant against the counter, eliciting a 'meep'. Adam's free hand came up and gently unhooked Jazz's visor, rendering him blind with a light gasp. Fingers traced the high cheekbones, smooth skin, full lips, and Jasper leaned into them as his golden eyes slid closed.

Adam couldn't resist and finally gave into the nagging temptation that he'd tried to push to the back of his mind. He bent forwards and pressed his lips to Jazz's. He could sense his partner's astonishment at the bold move, but at the same time he could sense something else, and that's when he found himself being kissed back with something akin to relief. Slim arms found their way around his neck, and Adam's own tried to pull Jazz in closer, ignoring the fact it was physically impossible.

A tilt of the head, a curious nibble of a dark bottom lip, and suddenly Adam's tongue was engaged in a hot, wet tango with Jasper's and he'd be damned if the lieutenant wasn't a fantastic kisser. An appreciative, almost musical groan sounded from Jazz, making a thrill run through Adam that he was the cause of that sound. He tugged roughly on a couple of the black dreadlocks, forcing Jazz's head upwards even more. Hands fisted into the back of his shirt collar as the tango was abandoned in favor of exploration.

When they parted reluctantly, both were breathing hard and wanting more. Even Jazz's golden eyes were misted in lust and hunger. He managed a trademark bright, yet wonky, grin.

"Felt like yeh really wanted t'do that," he said, voice wanton.

"Oh believe me, I did." Adam cupped a cheek lightly, brushing his thumb under an eye that seemed to looking right into his own. They were reflecting everything he was seeing, and more besides. "I really did." He leaned forwards again, this time latching onto Jazz's neck and nipping seductively. The darker man whimpered, tilting his head back to expose more skin to the brunette, then yelped as canines bit down hard enough to bruise. Some light suckling eased the flare of pain, leaving behind a raised ring that marked Jazz as his.

"Jesus, Prowler..." Jazz's voice had lowered, becoming a lot more husky. Adam found it intoxicating, and shifted his hips against Jasper's to try and wrestle another of those wonderful mewls out of the lieutenant. It worked, another shift turning it into a strained, needy groan.

"Bedroom, now," growled the detective, and heard no complaints from the younger man as they stumbled, still trying to keep that delicious friction and contact, towards Adam's room.

* * *

"So you're telling me," growled Morgan slowly, barely contained rage making his voice waver slightly, "that they are currently in police custody and Blitzwing is dead?"

"Yes my Lord. It seems our resident reconnaissance officers weren't who they said they were and told the police where to find them." Thane didn't flinch when his leader let out a howl of fury and slammed his fists down on his desk, but the intensity of Morgan's fuming gaze made him unable to meet it.

"Samuel." At the crime lord's voice, his information specialist seemed to materialize from the shadows. "Get them. I don't care how you manage it, I want them dead. Yesterday."

"Of course, Lord Morgan." Samuel bowed and vanished once more, and Morgan's attentions snapped back to Thane.

"I'm highly displeased. I thought I could count on you." The hatred in Morgan's voice at that moment nearly made the assault specialist shudder. "First my gang trine and now my reconnaissance twins."

"It won't happen again."

"Get out." Russell waved a curt hand dismissively, and Thane stalked out after a small incline of his head. The crime lord let out another enraged noise. Did he have _any_ competent soldiers he could rely on?


	5. Chapter 5

**Rae:** Hey guys! I'm really sorry for the wait in updating, uni had me swamped for a while with assessments. They decide whether I go on to next year or not, so they're pretty damn important :D

Also, I had a question in one of my previous reviews as to what Jasper and Adam actually look like. (http :// xrae-asakurax .deviantart. com/ art/ New-Recruit-151519856) Take the spaces out in that and you'll have your answer! :) I'll get round to some more detailed shots of them both (she hopes), but for now I'm concentrating on finishing my requests and uni project.

Enjoy the chapter, guys! x

* * *

Jasper woke up to a bedside alarm going off and the feeling of being inexplicably warm and safe, neither of which really registered with his hazy brain until he moved to try and turn the alarm off and found he couldn't due to a pair of arms wrapped securely around his waist. He briefly wondered why he'd fallen asleep naked, and then everything from the night before came flooding back. He reddened slightly as he felt his partner stirring behind him, and turned to face him as bleary blue eyes opened with a protesting groan. Said eyes locked with their lover's blind ones, noting the light blush, and he smiled as he leant forwards to brush a chaste kiss against Jazz's lips.

"Morning," he said softly.

"Mornin'." Jazz lifted himself up onto his elbows and groped around for the alarm clock. It stopped before he could find it, and Adam chuckled. Jazz threw his bottom lip out briefly in a mock pout. "Rub it in, yeh glitch," he grumped good-naturedly.

"Sorry." Adam passed Jazz his visor, pressing it gently into the younger man's hand. It was snapped carefully in place, and a brilliant smile lit up Jazz's face when his gaze rose to Adam's face once more. Red strands and shoulder-length, loose brown hair framed a smiling expression, from which two shapely blue eyes gazed right back at him full of care and a little apprehension. Fingers touched his lips lightly, and Adam pressed a kiss to them.

"Mmm, I could get used t' wakin' up like this," Jazz murmured.

"So could I, but if we don't shift soon we'll be late for your meeting."

"Yer a real atmosphere killer, y'know that Prowler?" The darker man chuckled at his partner's sheepish expression. "But yer right. Let's get t' it, then." He stretched, almost feline in his movements and hopped out of bed, pushing his covers off with a faint noise of wanting to get back under them and go back to sleep. He winced slightly, then, as his thigh muscles and lower back protested at being used. Adam saw the flinch and sniggered. Jazz threw him a look. "That's all yer fault, man," he muttered.

"I didn't hear you complaining last night," replied Adam cheekily, and Jazz flushed a little before making a dash for the bathroom. The detective snickered again and wend his way to the kitchen to make them both a quick breakfast. He pulled another herbal teabag out of the cupboard for Jazz and the coffee for himself. Caffeinated, of course. While the kettle sat happily warming and attempting to boil the water in it he rummaged in the fridge for some ingredients, emerging with his arms full of eggs, leftover bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms and cheese. He set them on the counter, delved into cupboards for a bowl and some cutlery, and set to work cracking and beating the eggs.

By the time Jazz finished in the bathroom and meandered in, neatly dressed, tying his dreads back and looking fresh if a bit drawn, Adam already had the omelettes sizzling away on the stove. Jazz sniffed and hummed appreciatively.

"Smells good, Prowler." He slipped an arm around his partner's waist, pecking him on the cheek on his way to rescuing his drowning teabag and yoinking the sugar for Adam's coffee. "A partner who can cook... where'd I go right?"

Adam gave him an amused look. "You're not getting any say in what you get in yours," he said.

"Then it's a good thing I ain't allergic t' anythin' yer puttin' in it," retorted the darker man with a grin as he took his teabag out and threw it away. A quick rinse of the spoon and he was adding sugar to Adam's coffee, stirring it before plonking next to the brunette. He got a grateful smile for it, which was returned wholeheartedly. Jazz then flipped one of the chairs around and straddled it backwards, setting his mug on the table to let it cool off a little bit. It wasn't just his hearing and touch that were sensitive.

"Hey Prowler?"

"Hmm?"

"Got any Advil? I don' wanna be goin' undercover with a sore back."

* * *

Ten minutes to ten in the morning found Jazz sauntering into the station lobby, bopping along to some arcane rhythm only he could hear, followed by an immaculate-as-always Adam carrying a few papers and a folder. They both greeted Dana, Jasper with a saucy wink and cheery grin and Adam with a small smile and incline of the head. Dana watched them go past, one eyebrow raised. Really, they were the most unlikely pair.

The partners stopped outside meeting room 1 on the way to their office, where Jazz was having his debriefing session that morning. Adam wished him luck with a slightly malicious smile, and Jazz got the feeling he knew something he wasn't telling. A shrug, quick kiss on the cheek and the dreadlocked man disappeared into the room, leaving his partner to shake his head fondly and move on to the office.

As soon as the lieutenant slipped in the door he was met by three faces turning to him. Orion's lips quirked upwards, and his two companions looked interested.

"Ah Jazz, there you are. Right on time too."

"Who needs an alarm when yeh've got Prowl as yer partner?" sniggered Jazz. Orion joined in the chuckle.

"Very true. Jazz, I'd like you to meet Alex Redding, our security chief. He'll be briefing you on what you might face and what we know." A dark red-haired man dipped his head slightly. "This here's Simon Cooper, our main tactician and back-up planner." The other man with almost silver hair shot him an amused smile.

"Alrighty. Nice t'meet ya both." Jazz tapped two fingers to his forehead in a light salute and plopped himself down in a chair. "Shall we?"

"Yes indeed." Alex took center stage. "Jazz, you've not made this easy for yourself. I don't think you've thought this through, have you?"

Jazz didn't answer, merely narrowed his eyes a little. Alex sighed. "Look Jasper, you're going undercover behind one of the greatest and most untouchable crime-lords in the entire country. There's a _reason_ he's untouchable! He leaves no loose ends and doesn't trust anybody. You're facing the biggest, most dangerous challenge you will ever in your career, I reckon."

"Thanks fer th'support, Red, I feel so much better now," said Jazz sarcastically.

"I'm not joking. You'll be trying to bluff your way into a nest of scorpions."

"That'd make Morgan th'queen scorpion. Should I start callin' him 'Maggie' now or sommat?"

"Jazz," Orion warned from the wing, and the dreadlocked man subsided his cracks.

"You'll be contending with us as well, Jasper. As law enforcers we'll be trying to catch you all." Alex tapped himself on the chest and then pointed at the commissioner. "If it came down to it, would you be able to shoot me? Shoot Commissioner Arkham?" A pause. "Shoot Detective McCallen?"

"Yes," Jazz muttered. "I would. Foxtrot has no qualms 'bout shootin' out with th'law, no matter who's on th'other end."

"Be that as it may, I still think you'll find it harder than you realize. You'll be asked to do all kinds of illegal, immoral and unlawful things, and that's if you make it past their lie detections. Morgan Russell has fists in the drugs trade, arms trade, the gambling scene, assassination contracts, human trafficking... you name it. Hell, I've got intel to suggest he runs more than one Russian Roulette game. If you get drafted into that, we can't help you at all."

"Should I b' writin' these in m'Palm Pilot or crochetin' 'em on pillows?" asked Jazz dryly, raising an eyebrow. Alex bristled slightly.

"This is serious, lieutenant! We're sending you into highly dangerous territory-"

"-that I've already had th'pleasure o' runnin' around in fer several years o' m'life," Jasper interrupted. "Yer th'stranger here, not meh. Yer only spoutin' theories, ideas yeh have 'bout what th'underground's like. Yeh've not been there, ya ain't seen what I've seen. Trust meh, it's far worse than yeh think."

Simon watched Jasper silently, appraisingly, judging. The man was certainly motivated, and that in itself counted for a significant something. Simon himself had had dealings in the criminal world, when his impulsive gambling and unhesitating willingness to cheat, lie and distract to achieve his goals was all he had. The cover-ups and misdirections he loved to throw around had earned him the nickname Smokescreen, a name he still used now to get information to work his tactical magic around. But compared to Jazz's experiences he'd only dabbled and dipped in a puddle. If anyone knew what they were doing it would be the lieutenant.

"I believe," he said quietly, interrupting Alex's ranting and Jazz's response in the form of an unwavering icy gaze, "Jasper here seems to know exactly what dangers he is going to be presented with, and by the sounds of it better than you do, Alex. I suggest we move to discussing plans, protocols and distress mechanics."

Alex glowered, switching gazes between the two men, then sighed resignedly as Jazz mouthed a 'thanks' to the tactician. Simon inclined his head slightly and then moved forward to stand next to Alex.

"I think the first port of business would be what to do if we need to get you out of there, fast. I suggest this." Simon held up a small microchip, twisting it around in his fingers a couple of times. "Orion told us about your visor, and I contacted your doctor. That engineer partner of his, Wade Jackson, whipped this up. It sits in one of the holders on your temple and transmits on a scrambled frequency that only we can pick up. If they do pick up something residual from it, tell them it's from your implants. They shouldn't be able to argue too much with that since they won't know the tech."

"Where in m'holder should I put it?" asked Jazz, curious.

"I've got your doctor, Ryan Chester, coming to fit it in a little later. Don't worry about that." Simon put the chip on the table, and Alex stepped forward to put an earring in front of Jazz, a simple gold stud. Jazz picked it up and rolled it around in his fingers.

"That," said Alex, pointing at the stud, "is a panic button. We're gonna have to get your ear pierced to put it in, but once it's in don't take it out again or it will activate your alarm. Separating the stud from its backing piece will send out an alert to us that you're in trouble and we need to go in and get you, so be careful with it."

"Gotcha." Jasper fingered his left ear, then hesitated before touching his right.

"We can't risk anymore tech on you, Jasper, in case it gets picked up. That's the last thing we want." Simon stepped back. "The next problem is not only finding Russell, but getting you two accquainted without getting you killed."

"Well, I got an idea fer that," put in Jazz, leaning back in his seat.

* * *

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise. I don't get many visitors." Astro Donovan eyed Jasper as the security guard left them in one of the prison's interrogation cells to stand guard outside. Jazz flipped his chair and sat on it the wrong way round, leaning on his elbows on the table in front of him. A quiet whistle escaped him as soon as he got a good look at the former gang leader.

"Man, what happened t' yer eye?"

"This?" Astro reached up and gingerly touched a huge black and blue bruise surrounding his left eye. "It's nothing compared to some of the crap I've had. Let's just say Casey's not at all happy with me."

"I see." Jazz settled his chin on interlocked fingers. "Donovan, I need a favor. If yeh help meh I can get yer sentence reduced, get ya outta here faster."

Astro snorted, a bark of laughter that sounded darkly amused and hollow. "If you're going to do that you might as well put a bullet in my head now," he tossed back. "Getting out of here sooner just means Russell will get the pleasure of killing me sooner. In all honesty, I'm safer in here. At least I'm used to this."

"I have contacts," said Jazz quietly. "I can get yeh a new identity, outta th'country, further away from his grip."

"Won't do me any good." Astro shook his head, then gazed at the lieutenant out of the corner of his eye. "What kind of a favor do you want?"

"I need t'know everythin' yeh know 'bout Russell, his men 'n his operations. Off th'record." Jazz's eyes flashed with something briefly behind his visor. "It ain't goin' t' anyone else but meh, this info."

There was silence for a minute. "You're going undercover, aren't you Foxtrot?" Astro smirked. "I wish you luck. Give Morgan some hell from me, if you survive long enough to." He leaned back in his metal chair, cricked his neck and then gestured his cuffed hands towards his companion. "What do you want to know?"

"His major players here in Detroit 'n their positions relevant t' him. An' any major ops he was plannin' 'fore yeh blew outta there." Jazz raised an eyebrow invitingly.

"He's got several names in this city, but you'll only need to know a few of them. Spencer White is his second-in-command, but in all honesty I don't know why Russell still keeps him around. White's always trying to usurp him somehow. Then there's his transportation and logistics chief Warren Skype. A real airhead and really forgetful if it's not about his job, but you'll be hard pressed to find someone better at it. Thane Mitchell is his tactician and assault specialist. He's quiet, moody, brooding but when he does speak you'd be wise to listen to him. He's also got a short temper. Those three make up his base trine; taking them out would really shake him and his power seat up."

Astro crossed his arms over his chest. "You're going to have to be damn convincing though, Foxtrot. Samuel is Russell's information specialist, but he's also a near mind-reader. He can read body-language, tone and words easier than you can read English. He's got two younger brothers as well, Rumble and Frenzy. I dunno their real names, that's all Samuel calls them by. Twins, Frenzy's the redhead and Rumble's the one with black hair.

"The last one to look out for is his operations commander, Shiv Corey. He's wily, cold, brutal and a perfectionist. He leaves nothing unfinished." Astro frowned. "You're getting in deeper than you think, Foxtrot. You won't get out of this unscathed, you know that."

"'M aware, yeah." Jazz let out a breath. "He's got everythin' covered, don' he?"

"Pretty much. If it were anyone else I wouldn't be talking, but I'm curious to see how you'll do. Just don't say I didn't warn you when you return a wreck, and that's on the extremely slim chance you return at all."

"I'll come back. An' don' worry 'bout m'actin' skills, Donovan; Foxtrot may have been put int' hibernation, but he's still a part o' who I am. All I gotta do is wake him up." Jazz crossed his arms over the chair back, hands dangling either side of the top. "What 'bout operations? Any ones I can slip in or 'm I gonna have t' attract his attention? How'd yeh get in?"

"I got recruited. Russell needed a few guys who could lead, but were happy still as street thugs. We fit the bill." Astro pursed his lips. "I'd say the attention-attracting is your best bet. None of the things he had planned while I was there would let you slip in, not unnoticed and unquestioned, anyway. Just make sure it's not the wrong attention." Astro leaned back, making it clear he'd decided he was done talking. Jazz called the security guard in, and Donovan made no protests as he was led from the room. A quick glance back and a twitch upwards of the lips were the last thing the lieutenant saw before the gang leader disappeared out the room. Jazz hung his head with a sharp exhalation and his fingers rubbed at the creasing in his brow.

Getting back into Foxtrot's mindset was going to be far easier said than done.

* * *

Adam had been searching for Jazz for a while; the station had clocked him in 45 minutes ago coming back from his prison visit to Donovan, but he'd yet to hear a whisper of his partner. His prized Porsche sat silent but proud in the parking lot, so he hadn't gone home. Their office was deserted, as was the canteen, the firing range, the bathroom and the sole meeting room in use was with Orion showing a slideshow about the precinct rules to a few rookie cops. The only place left for the detective to search was the training area.

He knew immediately that Jazz was there when he heard the familiar thwacks and taps associated with pummelling the punching bags and the huffing of a man having a real good go at his routine. When the lieutenant came into view Adam had to stop and stare, and not just because the sweat-matted shirt clung to Jazz leaving nothing to the imagination. As far as fighting went, Adam figured Jasper to be like himself; methodical, knowing and assertive, constantly taking in his surroundings and calculating their opponents' next moves, at the same time coming up with counter strikes and escape routes.

But no, Jazz seemed to be using nothing of the flowing disciplined moves Adam was so sure he used, there was no method and no distinction to his steps. The man was using pure instinct and adrenaline, using no recognizable stance or movements. In short he was nothing more than a street brawler at that moment in time, and yet Adam could pinpoint no openings in his defense. What ones he did spot were far too fleeting to take advantage of.

"Jazz." His lover's name left his lips automatically, the detective still entranced by Jasper's display. The dreadlocked man himself stopped abruptly in surprise, perfectly poised with one leg halfway through a roundhouse while his other was on tip-toe, bent at the knee. He slowly came back down to a normal standing position, breathing faster than usual but nowhere near as heavy as it should have been for the intensity at which he'd been attacking the poor punching bag.

"Hey Prowler." A small smile touched his lips, and their gazes met. Adam walked over and pressed his lips briefly to Jazz's. "I was wonderin' when yeh'd get here."

"That how you normally fight?" Asked his partner, gesturing vaguely. Jasper snickered.

"Yeah, actually. Surprised?"

"Very much so." Adam cocked his head to one side. "I took you for a more stategic fighter."

"Naw, not m'style man. 'Sides, Foxtrot ain't a disciplined person."

"Foxtrot?" That wasn't the first time the brunette had heard the name, but he didn't know who it referred to. "Who's Foxtrot?"

"Meh. Or, m'bad boy side, anyway." Jazz tipped over backwards into a perfect handstand. "M'code name. Whatever yeh wanna call him. I gotta make m'self convincin' t'Morgan or he ain't gonna believe meh, 'specially if what Donovan said 'bout Samuel is true. 'Pparently he can smell a fake a hundred miles away." The darker skinned man righted himself and walked over to a bench when a cream towel and a silver waterbottle sat waiting. He grabbed the towel and started patting himself down, sending a grateful look to his partner when he handed his waterbottle over without a word. Adam didn't need a prompt to know which side of Jazz Foxtrot was, and was silent still as he waited outside the shower stalls for Jazz to get himself cleaned up and get rid of the sweat his body had accumulated.

"Hey Prowler?"

Adam jumped a little as his nickname coming from one of the stalls jerked him out his musings. "Mm?"

"What do we know 'bout where Russell hangs out? There any clubs he frequents, bars he visits... hell, stores he goes shoppin'?"

"Truthfully? Nada." Adam let out a huff. "We don't know anything like that. But, we do know of a couple of bars where criminals like to hang around. Could be useful for getting information."

"Better than nothin', fer sure." There was a creak of a tap being twisted, and the sound of water spray stopped to give way to a dripping sound. Jazz unlocked his stall and came out with one large, fluffy white towel around his waist and another slightly smaller one squeezing at his dreadlocks. "Which ones?"

Adam let a small smirk onto his lips at the sight Jazz made, and the former gang-runner suddenly donned a look of realization. He shimmied his hips slightly, gold eyes sparking with mischievousness when his partner shook his head but kept his eyes steadfastly on Jazz. "Tease," he mock-complained.

"Yeh love meh 'n yeh know it," laughed Jazz, and he headed for an open locker which was apparently holding a spare set of clothes. He grabbed the t-shirt and slid it on, ignoring the small damp patches on his back that formed since he hadn't finished draining his hair. "So, where are these hangs?"

"First one's a bar called Blue Ice, just off Elmwood Park. I don't know what it's actually like, but from what I can tell it's a pretty seedy place. Second option is the Broken Palm in Madison Heights. A fair ways away. Take your pick." He watched Jazz slip into a changing cubicle.

"I'll go with Blue Ice firs', tonight probably. It's closer; I don' feel like drivin' out t' Madison."

"Tonight?" Adam looked surprised. "Can't you get some rest first?"

"Morgan don' rest, Prowler, 'n th'sooner we nail him th'sooner I can stow Foxtrot away again. It ain't a nice feelin' t'b' bringin' him back out."

"Then some time to get into character. What if you get thrown in while your mindset still hasn't adjusted all the way into Foxtrot?"

"I'll improvise." Jazz emerged from the changing room, slinging his towel over his shoulder. "'S what I do best."

* * *

"Oh for fuck's sake, will you hold still!" snapped Ryan irritably, slapping Jazz on the shoulder. The lieutenant stilled with an expression looking like he'd been shot, which made Wade snigger in the background. The engineer was checking over Jazz's optical band, making sure he hadn't damaged it or done anything stupid with it, while Ryan was inserting the microchip Simon had displayed earlier that day into Jazz's right implant. He'd already had his left ear pierced by the medic on Alex's insistence it be done as a priority. It still throbbed, but it was much more a throb he could feel than a throb that actually hurt.

Right now he was laid on his back on one of Ryan's ridiculously comfortable surgical beds, head tilted to left and blind. He could feel everything the surgeon did to his implant, but it didn't hurt. It did feel odd, though; it always did. Especially if it was a programming update. He'd get weird flashes of distorted images inside his head, often far too brief for him to make out what they were. He would also get strange electrical noises and static in his hearing, which blocked out everything else. Wade and Percy both insisted it was normal, but no one talked to Jazz during the process after the second time it happened since he couldn't hear anything but the static and noises.

He could tell when Ryan had finished because the flap that closed off the implant's internal workings and coding made a very specific clicking sound when it was shut. He blinked.

"Alright," said Ryan, helping Jazz sit up. "You're ready to go. Wade?"

"No problems here. You're taking good care of your visor, Jasper, keep it up." Wade came over and gently slotted the band back into place. There was a brief astrosecond of disorientation as the implants accepted the visor and the first electrical impulses made it to his brain, and Wade's smiling visage swam quickly into focus.

"Thanks, man. I will."

"Percy and I have also gone to the trouble of making a couple spare bands, in case that one gets broken in the field. We also have some spare circuitry for the implants." Wade clapped his hands together. "So, now you're all done and dusted. I've got to get back to my work. I'll see you later, Jazz."

"Yer a star, Wade, yeh 'n Percy both. I owe ya." Jazz waved the engineer out the room. "Thank yeh too, Rai. I know I mus' b' a pain in th'ass."

"Yes, but you're my pain in the ass. Now shift, I've got another patient due." Ryan pointed at the door, and Jazz skedaddled with a chuckle and a cheery, "See ya later, Doc!"

* * *

The Blue Ice was, Jazz decided, definitely _not_ a bar Jasper Miles would ever be caught dead in. It would, however, be a reasonable place to find Foxtrot, and that's why he was here. He looked down at himself standing outside the door, making sure he still had everything. He was wearing a black t-shirt, not too tight and not too loose, donned over which was a denim jacket that had obviously seen far better days with the patches, tears, ripped-off sleeves and mud stains littering it. Dark jeans with holes at knees, a small chain, a faded red bandana and a pair of cowboy boots finished off the look while his arm sported a semi-permanent tattoo of his old gang in LA. He had a small knife strapped to his calf, a Taurus Millenium PT111 in the back of his waistband - Adam's back-up gun - and the panic button Alex insisted he have. Just in case.

They were all there. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Immediately he was assaulted with the smell of cheap booze and cigarettes, and the heavy bass of background music drowned only vaguely out by the conversations being held between small groups crowded around everywhere. No one gave him a second glance as he wend his way to the bar, save for a couple of girls eyeing him; it seemed to them he was one of them. He smiled slightly. That was a good sign. The bar itself was run down, tacky faded wallpaper peeling off where several damp patches had accumulated from lack of attention. Chairs were torn and cushions lumpy, the tables were mis-matched and dented, scratched and chipped with no hint of even an attempt at repairs. The ceiling had a fair few dubious-looking rafters Jazz was sure weren't going to hold out for many more months if they weren't seen to. He reached the bar counter, and the bartender turned towards him with an interested expression.

"Ain't seen you around here before, friend," he said amiably, though his body language was wary. "What'll it be?"

"White Russian." Jazz chuckled. "'M new here, yer right. LA born 'n bred."

"Los Angeles, really?" The bartender looked surprised as he turned to get Jazz his requested drink, but then noticed the tattoo running up his right arm. It gave him pause. "What's an LA gang member doing in Michigan?"

Jazz traced the tattoo. "Business, tha's all."

"I see." There was silence for a couple minutes as the bartender mixed the drink, and he brought it over in exchange for the 9 dollars Jazz slid across the countertop.

"Hey man, 'm wonderin' sommat."

"Shoot." The man placed his money in the till and faced the dreadlocked man once more.

"Y'ever heard o' a man called Spencer White? 'M lookin' fer him."

The bartender considered for a moment. "Not ringing a bell, I'm afraid. Who is he?"

"'M business partner. I ain't important enough t'tell all th'gritty li'l details t', so I ain't a clue who 'm lookin' fer or where t'find him." Jazz shrugged.

"I'm afraid I can't help. But..." The barman leaned over and gestured to a small corner of the room where two other guys and a girl were grouped around a table, obviously in deep discussion. "She might be able to. Name's Naomi. I hear she's got... connections."

Jazz hummed thoughtfully, sipping his drink and taking in the woman's form. Deceptively slim, she very likely knew exactly how to handle herself and was stronger than she looked. Probably a tough personality to complement. "Thanks, man. She here most nights?"

"Yeah."

"Sweet." The lieutenant turned back to the bar and settled on finishing his drink, in no hurry. "Thanks fer th'info. 'Preciate it."

"No problem." The bartender left Jazz alone then, moving off to serve another few guys who'd waddled in half-wasted a couple minutes ago. Jasper sat and mulled his thoughts around in his head, letting the cool, creamy liquid slide deliciously down his throat. This Naomi girl was promising, but he needed to make at least sure the Broken Palm didn't hold any better leads. It could wait until tomorrow night. In the meantime, he decided, why not do a little snooping, see if he couldn't burst a couple hopeful criminal bubbles.

* * *

**Rae:** Bad Jazz! Destroying the dreams of criminals.... xD

Good? Bad? Totally off point? ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Rae:** Sorry again about the update wait, guys! Dealing with my aunt's funeral hasn't been all that easy, and now my university project work's taken over. I wouldn't expect another update for at least a couple of weeks yet, probably longer. I really apologize in advance for that!

And this is why I don't like doing multi-chaptered things... xDD Enjoy anyway, guys! Much luff, glomps and nommings to my Beta for dashing through this on a busy day~

* * *

Jazz came home from a fairly uneventful night at the Blue Ice. Apart from Naomi, he hadn't managed to come up with anyone else who might know Russell or one of his underlings. He hadn't talked to Naomi at all, just quietly and discreetly observed her from the bar. He still had to find out if the Broken Palm could reveal anything new to him. He'd had some excitement in the form of a bar brawl and then a few solid pieces of evidence that one of the guys there that night was a drug dealer, so Detroit PD could deal with him tomorrow morning when he presented it. Other than that he hadn't done or seen anything interesting.

Making sure his Porsche was locked properly and its security in place, he walked the two flights of stairs needed to get up to his door, humming quietly and stepping in time to a silent beat. His key twisted easily in its lock, but then he noticed his alarm was off. He tensed immediately; he never _ever_ left without setting it. His gun came out from the back of his jeans, safety off and in front of him. It led its holder into the living room first, the visor he wore in night vision mode since he hadn't put the lights on. That revealed nothing, as did the kitchen. Nothing seemed to be missing or out of place, so apparently it wasn't a burglar.

Jazz slowly moved into the bathroom, which also yielded nothing. That just left the bedroom, and he cocked his gun as he moved silently to the bedroom door. He pushed it gingerly open, keeping cover behind the door frame, and then tentatively peered in when nothing was thrown or shot at him. His night vision immediately picked up a solitary figure, but instead of lying in wait for him it was sprawled out on the bed. He stood up slowly and glided over to the bed, gun trained on the figure.

But when he got a good look at whoever was lying on his bed he had to stop himself from laughing out loud in relief, and the tension immediately left him. He turned his visor back normal vision and switched on his bedside lamp to reveal the sleeping face of his partner, curled up comfortably on top of his covers and untied hair spread out like a fan behind him. Adam groaned and turned away slightly from the light, but didn't stir. Jazz ran his fingers through Adam's hair gently, pushing the red strands out his face and pressing a loving kiss to his forehead. That made the detective scrunch up his nose slightly before opening his eyes blearily. The first thing he saw was a pair of amused gold eyes swim into view, and then a smirk tugging at full lips.

Adam suddenly remembered where he was, and shot upright. "Jazz! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. I was-"

He cut off by Jasper kissing him, effectively silencing any more excuses. "Yeh gave meh a right scare, Prowler," he said when he pulled away. "I thought someone'd broken in. I coulda shot yeh." He pulled Adam to his feet and cocked his head to one side. "How on earth did yeh know m'alarm code?"

"Watched you enter it last time I was here," muttered his partner in embarrassment. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"'M fine. See?" Jazz spread his arms and whirled around the room several times, making Adam snort in amusement. "A bar fight was 'bout th'highlight o' m'night."

"Well, now I know you're alright I'll stop scaring ten years off your life." Adam grinned and dug around in his pockets for his keys. A hand stopped him searching, and he turned to his partner in surprise. The lieutenant had an odd expression on his face which stayed for several seconds, and then he drew up against the tactician, hugging him.

"Stay," he said quietly. "Foxtrot always has trouble sleepin'."

Adam paused at those words, then buried his head in Jazz's shoulder and returned the embrace fiercely. "Of course, Jazz. You know I will."

* * *

Jazz was awake again at around 4 in the morning, much earlier than Adam ever got up. His first stop was the shower; he hadn't had one last night, he'd been too tired after a busy day and curling up with Adam was too tempting. He stayed under the hot water for a good while, long enough that by the time he got out it had gone to lukewarm. He got dressed and ready swiftly and silently, leaving a note for Adam on the kitchen counter and giving his partner a gentle kiss before he escaped his flat, munching on a buttered bagel half as his breakfast. He wanted to get to that industrial estate in Toledo Donovan had told him about before any of the security guards and Detroit PD got there again. They'd quite literally seized all of it about 3 hours after Astro had handed the leaflets over, and had been guarding it ever since. Jazz thought they were insane and told them so; how on earth they expected Russell to come back with cops swarming the whole thing was beyond him, but that wasn't about to put Jazz off. He was determined to find something that could lead him to Russell's current location.

He unlocked his Porsche, sliding into the driver's seat effortlessly and gunning the engine to life once the keys were in the ignition. It was a good hour's drive to Toledo from his home, and he threw on some music to help pass the time. It was one of the few things that didn't change between Jasper and Foxtrot; they were both music lovers. What did differ was the genres they listened to. He began to bop along to the Breaking Benjamin song blaring through the speakers, pulling out the parking lot outside his block of flats and glancing once more up at his own before driving off.

* * *

Adam woke up with a groan and turned over while dragging the duvet with him in an attempt to go back to sleep. He knew full well it was a Sunday morning, his day of the week off, but something didn't feel right, and his mind got restless because he couldn't put a finger on what it was. His eyes opened under protest to find he wasn't in his own room, and then last night hit him figuratively in the side of the head. He'd gone to his partner's flat around the time he thought he'd get back, and fallen asleep waiting for Jazz to get home. He'd been woken up by the lieutenant sporting an impressive bruise around one wrist, presumably from the bar fight he'd got into.

And then Jazz wanted him to stay the night, help him sleep better. Adam glanced over at the other side of the bed, but it was empty. And cold. Jazz had obviously woken up a lot earlier than the 10:34am the alarm clock was happily flashing at him. He ran a hand down his face and slid out of the covers, padding into the kitchen to see what there was for breakfast. He snorted when he saw the butter was still out, obviously due to Jazz forgetting to put it away this morning since it hadn't been out last night. He opened the fridge and immediately spotted and snaffled up a carton of orange juice. A rummage in the cupboards found him a glass, and he shook the juice before pouring himself some. As he was tipping the liquid out he noticed a piece of paper sat haphazardly on the opposite edge of the counter. Adam picked it up when he'd put the juice away, and unfolded it and read it while he made his way to the kitchen table.

_Prowler,_

_I won't be there when you get this, I didn't have the heart to wake you. Don't worry, I wasn't kidnapped in the middle of the night or anything. I'm off trying to get some more clues as to Morgan's whereabouts without the police breathing down my neck and risking my cover. That means early mornings. REALLY not my strong suit, but I'll deal. Help yourself to whatever you want to eat and drink, and stay as long as you want to. I don't know when I'll be back, if I'll be back at all tonight. I'll be careful, I promise._

_Jazz x_

Adam sniggered at Jazz's script, graceful yet scrawly at the same time, and the kiss his partner put at the bottom of the note, but sobered up again pretty quickly. He was worried about Jazz, really worried. He knew Jazz was good, but then so was Morgan. And the crime lord had been at the whole espionage and saboteurism thing a lot longer than Jasper ever had. Saboteurism... was that even a word? Adam shook his head and pocketed the note. If it wasn't before, it had just been coined. His thoughts went back to his partner, and he was surprised to find his chest tightened at the notion of putting the lieutenant in that much danger. Adam put a hand to his chest, unconsciously right over his heart for a few seconds, and then shook himself out of it. He finished his juice and went ransacking the kitchen for some breakfast, eventually settling on the idea of making himself some pancakes. He'd make sure there were some left over for Jazz for when he came back.

* * *

Jazz switched off his engine, cutting off Seether. He studied his watch. Quarter to 6 in the morning. That meant the guards wouldn't be here for another hour or so yet. He hopped out the car and locked it, then started the two minute walk to the industrial estate. He'd purposely parked a ways away so there was little chance of his car being identified and no chance of it being caught on the monitored area's CCTV cameras. He scrutinized each camera he passed, staying outside the visual range he estimated they had. He circled the perimeter once, noting the positions of every camera and what non-human security was in place.

Pathetic, really. He'd have to have a word with Orion and Alex about how to set up proper security measures; these attempts were laughable. He went back to one of the five blind spots he'd found, walking up to the chainlink fence surrounding the estate. From there he moved sedately sideways to a point directly underneath one of the cameras and began to climb up the fence. It took him barely a minute to reach the top, and when he did he slithered easily past the lens of the camera without it seeing him. One hand reached carefully over the coils of barbwire lining the top while the other remained clutching the side he was on. A quick, hard push off from the fence had him pretty much cartwheeling over the wire and falling feet-first to the ground at the other side. He crouched upon landing, letting his body absorb the shockwaves and ignoring his protesting wrist. He remained low for several seconds, searching for anyone watching him or any cameras he might have missed, but when he saw none he straightened up and brushed himself off.

He swept the part of the estate he'd jumped into with his visor, noting every building, structure and free area around him, where the most advantageous spots to spy or snipe from would be, his best shots at cover should he need it, any possible getaway vehicles and where the ideal areas of undetected escape would be. He likely wasn't going to get out before the police arrived. Jazz sighed and massaged his wrist, moving off to the nearest warehouse. Russell must have taken up residence in one of them, and he knew the police would have scoured the place top to bottom, but he wasn't looking for forensics, there were far better ways to tell whether someone other than the law had been around recently.

The first warehouse didn't hold anything like what he was looking for, nor did its office. It was bare, either because there hadn't been anything in there in the first place or it had all been thoroughly cleared out. The second building was a block of offices and cubicles, all abandoned and dusty and covered in settled dirt and cobwebs. No one had used it in a long while, mused Jazz as he tapped one of the plug sockets only to draw his hand sharply back when it sparked and spat at him. He looked around him once more, and then left the building. Nothing in there.

His next stop was a storage house, this one full of boxes. All different sizes and mostly empty, but those that weren't held only some rusted circuitboards of some kind, random mass-packaged cleaning supplies, rubber Halloween masks and DIY Build-A-Shelf kits. Jazz had to snort with laughter at the masks, and tried a werewolf one on just for fun. If only there were costumes to go with the masks, he thought in disappointment.

* * *

Almost as soon as he shouldered the door open into around the twelfth or so warehouse (he wasn't keeping count) Jazz knew he'd found something. The air smelt different, a metallic, chemical smell instead of dead and musty, and while it was faint it was definitely moving, like a small fan was going somewhere. There was thick dust undisturbed around the warehouse floor edge and empty racks, so it obviously hadn't seen use for some time. At least, not in here. He reached up to his right temple, switching his visor from it's normal vision to heat detection. Immediately his surroundings changed to a multitude of colors, mostly greens and blues with patches of orange and red here and there where it was warm. One spot caught his attention though, a spot that appeared a much darker blue - and therefore colder - than the areas surrounding it. He walked over until he was standing right on top of it, then knelt down and touched the floor. A waft of air floated over his hand, and he grinned. He switched his visor back to it's default visual setting and began feeling around for exactly where the air was coming from. His fingers caught a little niche in the floor that, to the normal eye, looked natural, but it didn't _feel_ like it belonged. He pushed at it and tugged it experimentally, and his grin widened when he heard a 'clunk', feeling something give.

He stood back as niche widened and something that looked like a handle popped out as though on a spring. He touched the handle tentatively, and then pulled it towards him when nothing else happened. As heavy as he thought it would be, it came his way pretty easily, slotting neatly just underneath the existing floor. It revealed a set of stairs leading into blackness. He stood up and looked around him for anything he could prop the door open with; he didn't want it to close while he was still down there. He didn't know if he could open it from the other side, nor did he particularly want to find out. A dig around in and behind a couple of the empty boxes lying around yielded a mop, which he snapped the head off of and then wedged the handle into the gap. That done, he started down the stairs, switching to the greens and blacks of his night vision once he was far enough down.

The first thing he came across was a monitor room. Or, what appeared to be a monitor room, anyway. It was a work bench with a load of offline screens and wires above and on it, and empty boxes littering the floor. He looked and felt around for a light switch, but the one he found wouldn't work. He moved back out and further down a wide corridor to another door, this one sturdier and made of metal instead of wood. He raised a foot and slammed it into the door a few times until it gave, and he pushed it the rest of the way open. In here he found another desk, but it looked like someone's study instead of a monitor station. There were no major electronics this time, mostly just a couple of busted lights. A bare bookcase stood forlornly at one side of the room, and a ransacked cupboard at the other. He walked over to the desk and ran his fingers along it, only to pause when he felt them hit something. He picked up the object. It was flat, round and made of what felt like cork on one side and plastic on the other.

A coffee mat. He turned the mat over so the plastic was facing him, and his eyes widened at what was written on it. 'The Broken Palm' was scrawled almost grafitti-style across it. His grip tightened; looked like he had a confirmed date at the bar tonight.

He escaped the study and explored a little more, but there were only two other rooms. One had apparently been turned into a sparring room, as new mats and ropes and things were still there that didn't fit the surroundings. The other only had a metal table and one uncomfortable-looking steel chair. Probably the interrogation room or something. He looked back down at the coaster he clutched, twisting it round in his fingers, and then made a beeline for the stairway. The mop handle had held nicely, and he took it out of place once out of the basement and pushed the cover back over the stairs. Let the police find it on their own, he had more important things to do now.

Speaking of police... Jazz pocketed the coaster, cracked open the warehouse door and immediately spotted a patrol pair about a hundred meters away, though thankfully not walking towards him. He eyed the fence beyond them, slightly annoyed but not surprised to see a couple more cop cars waiting. He slipped out of the door and round the side of his warehouse, and began hunting for some way out that preferably wouldn't get him chased by the law. It only served to increase his frustration when he found the potential escape routes he'd mapped earlier were all covered by cops or mobile surveillance.

He had to hide twice from the patrols before he spotted something that looked like his best ticket out. A small breeze-block office-like building pressed against and reached pretty much to the top of the fence, apparently in a pretty big camera blind spot, and if Jazz could climb it he'd be home free. He waited until the partners he'd just avoided had turned the next corner to sprint for the office. He knew he only had roughly five minutes, maybe, until the patrol came back and saw him.

The drainpipe dropping from the gutter was his best bet up, but it was plastic and looked unstable. He'd have to be careful. Jazz wrapped both hands about as high as he could reach up the pipe and braced his feet on the wall. From there he pulled himself as fast as he dared towards the roof. He couldn't go too fast or the pipe would break, but nor could he afford to go too slow as the patrol was probably heading round again.

Jazz had just about reached the guttering running around the edge of the roof when the drainpipe gave an ominous groan. The saboteur froze when he felt it give a little to accompany the groan, and then did the first thing his mind came up with; leap for the edge of the roof. The force of his jump cracked the plastic pipe and it broke away from the wall as Jazz's fingers hooked over the roof's edge. He used the fact his body was playing pendulum from the jump to his advantage, managing to hook a foot up and over as well. That helped him drag his frame onto the roof a lot quicker than if he'd just been dangling.

Once on his feet he ran to the fence and used the same technique he'd used getting in to vault back out again. The drop was bigger this time though, and he bit back a cry when the landing painfully jarred his entire being. He took his time getting up now he wasn't in any danger of being caught by the police and began the walk back to his Porsche.

* * *

Jazz stood and stared at the Broken Palm's outside view, hands on hips. It certainly looked respectable enough, not exactly what he pictured it to be. It was just a normal bar; a green and yellow neon sign declared its name, venetian blinds covered the windows, a windowed door with a drape on its inside led the way in and a pulsing music bass could not only be heard but felt through his entire body. He raised an eyebrow, shrugged and made his way inside while fingering the earring that still throbbed slightly. The internal decoration of the bar was just as typical as the outside; black and white photos of Detroit and New York lined wooden walls, and booths were situated comfortably underneath them. The rest of the floor was a false wood effect, covered in tables and chairs seating two, four or six people. A dancefloor was crowded with people moving and swaying to the same beat he'd heard outside, and he felt a slight longing to go join in. He ignored it though, and made his way to the bar. That was wood as well, to fit the theme, and dark red barstools stood higher than Jazz had ever seen them. He leapt smoothly into one.

When the bartender came over a couple minutes later he quietly ordered Long Island Iced Tea, extra long. It came, he paid, and the bartender moved swiftly on to serve another customer. Obviously this bartender wasn't as relaxed or friendly as the one at the Blue Ice. Jazz took a sip and hummed appreciatively. Even if he was anti-social, he sure knew how to make a damn good Long Island.

He swivelled his stool around and scanned room, massaging his still-bruised wrist and making sure his visor hid his eyes' movements as much as they could. No one popped out at him, but then he hardly expected anyone to be that obvious. They all looked like normal, average people, nothing like the shady characters Blue Ice hosted. His lips pulled to one side and he took another swig of his drink. If Morgan or one of his flunkies hung around here, then they were hiding themselves pretty well.

Or they just weren't here.

He did another visual sweep, only to settle his gaze on the TV fixed to the upper wall of the inside of the bar. His eyes widened at the sight of ambulances and police surrounding something that looked suspiciously like the state prison on the news. He motioned the bartender over and asked him to up the volume. He did, and left the remote with Jazz in case he still couldn't hear it. The lieutenant pressed the plus button a few more times, and he groaned as soon as he could hear the report.

_"Police have yet to identify the attackers that have left one inmate dead and another critically wounded, but they do believe it was a hit of some kind. They were specifically targeted by someone, but by who and for what there is no explanation." _The reporter looked grim on his half of the screen, and the newscaster on the other half put on an interested expression.

_"Can you tell us anything about the inmates that were injured, John?"_

_"They are believed to be two of the three men who robbed and destroyed most of the Central bank. The third member was found dead a couple days ago in Hamtramck, apparently murdered by his comrades. No names have been released, we don't know who they are."_

Jazz did. He lowered the remote in shock, still staring at the screen. "No way..." he whispered. He reached into the inside pocket of his denim jacket and pulled out a small, burn flip-phone. He punched in the number for Adam, and drummed his fingers impatiently on the table as the ringing sounded on in his ear.

'_Hello?_'

"Prowler! Tell meh it ain't true."

'_What's not... oh. You saw the report.'_

"Damn straight I saw it. What happened 'n why wasn't I told earlier?"

'_We... we don't know. Donovan's dead, Jazz, and Octane's not expected to last for any more than a couple of days. If that. Alex said we couldn't risk your cover telling you.'_

"How th'fuck did this happen?" hissed Jazz. "They were s'posed t'b' under heavy guard!"

_'They were. Jazz, whoever did this was good. Extremely good. They took out the security gates, the guards with non-lethal force and the cameras, and then attacked Donovan and Octane before slipping out undetected. We don't know what happened or who it was._' Adam sighed over the phone, and Jazz felt bad for his snapping at the detective. His sigh sounded heavy, tired.

"Yeh sound stressed, man. Tell yeh what, I'll b' all yers when I get back." Jazz smiled when Adam couldn't stifle a giggle.

'_Thanks, Jazz.'_

"I'm gettin' close, Prowler. Don' worry, we'll get this sonuvabitch. I promise."

_'Be careful.'_

"You too. Ciao, babe." Jazz flipped the phone closed to end the conversation, glanced back at the news with a grimace and then pushed the remote away from him. He took another long draught of his drink, losing himself in his thoughts. He stared absently at his glass and the fingers clasping it without really seeing them, and didn't shake himself out of it until the Long Island was done and he tried to slurp some more up the straw to find there was no more.

He poked the glass to the other end of the table, gaze drifting around the room once more until it landed on the dancefloor. He debated with himself for several seconds, then decided what the hell. Jazz slid off his barstool and wend his way to the floor. He chose a spot that wasn't too crowded, but nor was he dancing on his own. He got there just as another song came on, very upbeat, catchy and electric. He powered down his visor; it was better not to see things when you really wanted to feel the music. He let the song pulse through him, each beat getting louder and louder, more intense. He began to move, softly at first. His movements and shifts became faster and fluid, every twist, turn, dip, coil, spring, release and arch of his body guided by the only mistress he had right then. Music. A smile touched his lips; he was in his element here.

As the last bars of the music faded out he finally powered up his visor again, only to find he'd apparently managed to lure in quite an audience. It made him feel embarrassed, but why he wasn't sure. He was saved from saying anything when a young man with black hair tipped in dark blue stepped forward and grinned.

"And how he can dance," he said, looking pleased. "Finally, someone up to my standards." He walked over to Jazz and circled him slowly, once. Jasper stood still, relaxed but wary, eyes following the young man. Jazz had to admit, he was pretty attractive. "Got time for another song?" the dark-haired man asked once he was facing the lieutenant again.

"I don' dance with nameless strangers," replied Jazz, putting his hands on his hips.

A chuckle. "What about just strangers? Call me Rumble."

"Rumble?" A jolt of surprise shot through the dreadlocked man; wasn't that the name of one of Samuel's brothers? If that was the case, then this was exactly the break he'd been looking for. A dangerous break, but a break nonetheless. "Unusual, I'll give yeh that. Mine's Foxtrot."

"No more than yours, friend." Rumble moved forwards as the next song began and slipped to Jazz's right side while his arm clasped the left hip across his body. Jazz did the same, and the two of them circled each other slowly. Jazz noticed a small movement in Rumble's muscles which told him everything he needed to know, and he switched his direction at the same time Rumble did.

"Impressive."

"Thank yeh." Jazz kept his gaze locked on the burgundy ones of his dance partner, movements perfectly in synch. It didn't matter who was leading, they mirrored each other like they'd been doing it together all their lives. Jazz wasn't sure there was a leader to be perfectly honest, but that didn't matter. He found he was enjoying himself, and wondered if Adam would ever dance with him like this. The longer the song went on the more fun he was finding it, until the last bars of it had Rumble swinging the lieutenant around to his laughter so Jazz ended up on one knee with the other leg out to the side looking up at Rumble, who had one foot on Jazz's elevated knee and a satisfied expression.

They stayed there for a few seconds, before Rumble grabbed Jasper's hand to haul him to his feet. "Now _that,"_ he said, "was dancing. If I could find more people like you in places like these..." He trailed off and sighed.

"Same here. I ain't seen anyone move that good since I was back in LA." Jasper shot Rumble a grin, and he threw an arm around the lieutenant's shoulders in response.

"C'mon. Care for a drink? I'm buying."

"Eh, why not? 'Preciate it."

"Don't mention it." They made their way to the bar, where Jasper ordered a piña colada and Rumble got himself a daquirí. Drinks in hand and paid for, Rumble motioned over to the back of the room where a few booths Jazz hadn't seen were situated. One of them housed two more men, the one Rumble was heading to. One man had dark red hair with bright tips, and looked identical to Rumble in nearly every way. The other man looked older, sharper, and had a strange aura about him. Jazz guessed he must be Samuel, and instantly put his gameface on. There was no room for mistakes around him.

"Yo bro, where'd ya go?" The red-haired man gave a lazy wave, frowning at Jazz. "And who's this?"

"This here's Foxtrot. Met him on the floor. _Man_ can he dance." Rumble gestured to the table. "Foxtrot, meet my twin brother Frenzy and our older brother Samuel."

Jazz inclined his head to both of them, and slid into the booth after Rumble. This could be interesting.

* * *

**Rae:** And if that's not a crack pairing, I don't know what is... (snorts) I blame my sister for it; I asked her which Decepticon she'd pick and she chose Rumble. So, Rumble it was!


	7. Chapter 7

**Rae:** I know I said I wouldn't update for a while, but I didn't have the right software with me to work on my uni project during my trip to Wales. Thus, I worked on chapter 7. And for the record, Jazz as a completely psychotic kid is hella fun to write :3

And my beta helpfully put into words what I couldn't; the flashback scene shows just how bad Foxtrot was and how much Jazz doesn't want to go back to there. Much love to her for the go-over~! (noms happily)

Chapter 8 will have to wait being written until after my assessments next week :d

* * *

Adam closed his own phone when he heard Jazz hang up. The background noise told the detective his partner was inside somewhere, loud music and voices taking up whatever sound space was leftover from Jazz's surprised and somewhat angry tone. Adam supposed he couldn't blame him, he'd been counting a fair bit on Astro at least being alive. However, Donovan was now being carted off to the hospital morgue and Octane was not expected to last night. He looked over at where Orion was talking to a couple of still rather startled guards and Byron was silently taking notes. Skylar had accompanied Octane to the hospital, partly for protection and partly to see if the talkative sniper could get anything more from Casey.

Benjamin was helping the other prison guards trying to restore some order to the chaos the inmates were riled up into from the death of two of their own right in front of their noses. He appeared to be a bit more successful than the other guards at calming them down, but that could just have been due to the serene presence Ben seemed to just naturally radiate. Adam looked back down at the phone clutched in his hand and then slipped it into his jacket pocket. He wished Jazz was around; as much as Ben's presence was appreciated, it was Jasper Miles who had the biggest effect on him. He sidled over to Orion, and the Commissioner sent him a small smile as he finished his conversation with the two chief guards.

"I'm sorry for calling you out on your day off," apologized Orion when he turned around to the detective.

Adam shrugged one shoulder. "It's alright, sir. To be honest I haven't done a lot with myself today. It's not like I had plans. It's just been a lazy day; this has broken the monotony somewhat."

A chuckle. "I'm glad. Phoned Lieutenant Miles?"

"Yes sir. He's understandably... upset."

Orion huffed. "Yeah, I figured. Where is he now?"

"I don't know, he didn't say. However, I suspect he's in a bar. Quite possibly one of the I told him were known felon hangouts." Adam gave a wry smile. "Trust him even at this early hour."

"Half-six in the evening and he's already partying?" Orion shook his head to hide a grin. "He just doesn't stop."

"He's determined," amended Adam. "He promised me he was going to bring Russell down. I believe him."

"I hope to hell he can. I've put a lot of faith in him to deliver what he said he could. I don't like throwing my men to the wolves." Orion patted Adam on the shoulder and moved off towards his car. The detective followed him with his gaze, cerulean eyes bright with apprehension. It slid away from the retreating back of his boss to the gaudy yellow and black 'crime scene' tape and temporary metal barriers sealing off the prison, beyond which stood a huge crowd of people all speculating amongst themselves what had happened or, for those who knew, who'd died, along with news crews from at least five different channels and one hovering helicopter. They were all bawling down microphones to their cameramen and the presenter back at their stations, and Adam briefly wondered which news crew Jazz had seen announce the murders. The question left as quickly as it came; frankly, he didn't give a damn. The media were the bane of his job. He started to thread a path through the cops and guards surrounding the prison entrance, walking sedately until he reached Ben. The blond offered him a tired smile, which was returned with a little wave.

"Hey Adam."

"Hello Benjamin." Adam looked around, pleased to see most of the prisoners calmer and skulking back inside from the prison yard to their cells under the ushering of some of the guards. "Everything alright now?"

"Better, for sure. 'Alright' wouldn't be the word I'd use. We got a couple guards and uniforms injured by a few over-rowdy inmates. Left them to me to deal with." The recon officer grinned despite himself. "I'm so lucky."

"I noticed," smiled Adam.

"The ones involved are being escorted to solitary now. Anyway, how's Jasper?" Benjamin untied the police-issue jacket he'd knotted around his waist and slipped it on.

"Good. For now, anyway. I'm more than a little worried about him."

"I'll join that club." Ben zipped up the black and white jacket declaring 'POLICE' on its back. "I gotta go finish up here and head back to the station. Paperwork galore now, should keep me busy for the next century. You'll be alright, yeah?"

"Yes, I think so. Thanks, Benjamin." The blond nodded and disappeared, leaving Adam pondering what to do now. The Detroit PD whose jurisdiction this was could handle things from here by the looks of it; the back-up they'd called in from the 9th precinct and the 27th - Orion's - precinct was no longer needed. He wend his way slowly back to his Datsun, thinking, and then came to the sudden decision to go see Casey and Skylar at the hospital. His pace didn't quicken, but his steps got more finality to them compared to their vague shuffle a couple seconds ago as he now had a destination in mind.

* * *

When he arrived at the hospital ten minutes later he showed his badge to the nurse at reception and asked where Casey Octane was. She nodded, motioned for another nurse to take over briefly and escorted Adam to the Cecilia ward, where Octane was laid covered in bandages and connected to three separate monitors, a drip and breathing apparatus. Skylar was leaning against a corner of the room, and sent the detective a bored look.

"He hasn't woken up yet. The doctors say it's only a slim chance he will at all, and if he does then it might be for all of five minutes before he's back into this comatose state. Which I have to say isn't really all that long to get any more information out of him. What am I supposed to ask him anyway? What are we looking for? No one's told me so I'm at a bit of -"

Adam stopped Skylar's babbling with a raised finger and quirk of the lips. The pale-haired sniper quieted instantly, not at all bothered about being interrupted, and eyed him expectantly.

"Allow me. I know more about what's relevant and what's not."

"Thanks Adam. That's just saved me a lot of 'umm'ing and 'ahh'ing that could be used to ask questions."

"That and your questions get a bit long-winded anyway," chuckled the detective, and Skylar joined in with giggles of his own, uncaring about the jibe at his inability to keep himself from babbling. He knew he did it, and it never bothered him; it was just something that made him Skylar.

"True, true." Their snickers faded and they settled down to wait then without another word, Adam perching himself neatly on one of the chairs and Skylar pacing restlessly but methodically across the room.

* * *

It was a good three hours later, probably more (Adam had lost track) when the monitor keeping tabs on Casey's heart and breathing beeped to show they were both increasing from that of a man unconscious to a man awake. Casey's eyes fluttered open as Skylar scurried to the suite door calling for a nurse. The dark burgundy orbs stared, unfocussed, at the ceiling for several seconds. Adam moved swiftly over to the bed, pulling out a mini-disc recorder and hitting the small red button to set it as he did.

"Octane," he demanded softly, "can you hear me?"

The glassy gaze slid hazily over to him, and Adam could see it took him a little bit to register his words. "Who're you?"

"Never mind that. Who attacked you? Who was it?"

A pause, shorter than the last one. "You're a copper, ain't you?" Octane coughed violently, letting out a groan as it jostled his injuries. "I ain't telling you nothing."

"Please, Octane. Tell me." Adam moved so the nurse who'd answered Skylar's yell could tend to the gang leader. "You have nothing to lose or gain."

"My ghost gets to see-" Another bout of coughing. "-you bastards floundering for answers."

"Casey. Who did this? Was it Russell? What is he planning?"

Casey regarded the brunette for about thirty seconds with eyes that were really losing focus, then motioned him over. Adam bent his head to his, recorder ready. The gang leader took an unsteady breath.

"Fuck you," he slurred quietly, and then the nurse started yelling for the doctors as Casey's body began heaving and the heart monitor suddenly started up a steady, continuous beep. Adam and Skylar were both pushed out the way as two more doctors and another nurse came rushing in with a defibrillator, and they watched as the staff set up quickly, shouted instructions and readings at one another and attempted to shock Casey's heart back into a functioning rhythm. The shocks got larger in strength, until the doctor administering them stopped, shaking his head sadly.

"No good. Call it."

One of the nurses scribbled something down on a clipboard as she said, "time of death is 10:07 in the evening, patient Casey Octane, cause cardiac failure due to extensive injuries." Adam slowly pressed the stop button on his recorder, and slid down into a seat as the now-calmer medical staff milled around discussing what to do next in low tones. He didn't hear them. His hand trembled as he clenched it, and then he slammed his hand into the floor. Skylar put a hand on the brunette's shoulder in an attempted placating gesture, but it just made him feel worse.

Nothing. He hadn't got anything out of the last of the gang trine. He's hoped to get at least _something_ he could use to throw at Russell and help Jazz, wherever he was, but no. He'd got nothing. Nada. Zip.

He looked up at the force sniper still clutching his shoulder, and the young man sent him a sad smile. "C'mon Adam, let's go back. You look like you could use the rest."

"I look like shit, I know." Adam clasped the proffered hand and hauled himself to his feet.

"I didn't say that," protested Skylar. "You just look tired."

"You don't need to say it, I know I do." The detective ran a hand down his face and sighed. "You're right, let's go." He followed the sniper out the room and walked slowly back to his car, trailing behind a not-much-more-chipper Skylar. He blew a few stray, red-dyed hair strands out of his face and hoped his partner was having a lot more luck than he was.

-x-

* * *

_There it was again. The scent of fear, the sounds of frantic breathing, the erratic pulses of tension in the very air around him, making it feel positively electric. 11-year-old Foxtrot grinned maliciously as he closed in on his quarry, fixing a silencer to his Glock as he stepped noiselessly towards the other man's hiding place. It was this bit of the hunt he loved best; when he had his target cornered and they knew it, yet still they tried to escape what was so obviously inevitable. Their attempts amused him no end, and just made it all the more enjoyable._

_"There's no point hidin'," he sing-songed in a falsely sweet voice. "'M gonna getcha sooner or later. Why drag out what yeh know yeh can't avoid? I've already killed th'rest o' yer pack. No one's gonna save yeh."_

_"I can look after myself!" A voice reverberated around the warehouse, a pathetic attempt at vocal bravado revealing the trembling panic the gang runner had been reduced to. Foxtrot himself cocked his head to one side, listening to the echoes as he spoke again._

_"I can see that, yer th'last alive. Fer now." Foxtrot shifted his weapon, having already pin-pointed the origin of the reverberation. "If yeh come out now I promise I'll make it quick."_

_"Never." The tremble was still there, if not worse than before. Foxtrot snickered to himself and made a deliberately loud footstep so the other man could hear how close he was, just to freak him out even more._

_"So b' it." Foxtrot broke into a sprint then, steps light and soundless as he speedily reached the other end of the warehouse and rounded the corner to expose the other man's hiding place and the man himself. A weapon was immediately aimed his way with a surprised noise, but before the other could get any shots off a burst of fire from the Glock went straight to the man's legs, disabling them to a shocked, pain-filled cry. Foxtrot shouldered the weapon and knocked the other man's own away, out of reach. Two agony-glazed blue eyes rose from under bedraggled dark-brown hair to see their hunter for the first time, and a strained gasp was heard._

_"You... you're just... just a kid! A kid! How... why..."_

_"'Cause I can 'n it's fun," countered Foxtrot with a smirk curling at his lips. "Yeh had th'chance t'make this easy, but honestly I like it when m'toys don' give up. M'playtime gets much more... _fun_." He rolled up a jeans leg to reveal a small sheath half hidden by his boot, and he slowly withdrew a long, sharp, serrated blade, flashing it in full view of his captive with the pretence of examining it for the first time. Gold eyes snapped from the blade to the terrified blue-eyed man on the floor when his fingers finished their exploration, a man who was also horrified that a child - a_ _CHILD - could go this far, outwit an entire group of gang-runners and snap this badly, and Foxtrot's grin grew to nothing short of vicious. "So, shall we play?"_

* * *

-x-

"Name known," said Samuel a few seconds after Jazz sat down. Jasper froze and shot the information specialist a curious stare.

"Come again?"

Rumble chuckled and Frenzy grinned. "It's just the way our brother talks. No one knows why, not even us, and he won't say anything about it. You get used to it after a while," the redheaded twin said.

"But he said your name's familiar to him." Frenzy held Jazz's gaze as the golden eyes swung to meet his. "Why would that be?"

"Prob'ly from LA," replied Jazz evenly, and held out his arm to show the gang tattoo off. "M'posse weren't exactly th'mos' liked gang around, 'n I was one o'th'worst o' 'em. Foxtrot was a feared name."

"Deduction correct." Samuel tilted his head to one side, studying the identifying mark. "You disappeared. Where and why?"

"Went int' hidin'." Jazz's eyes snapped around to the mahogany ones shadowed behind red frameless lenses. "That's all 'm sayin'."

"Why would you need to go into hiding if you were feared so badly?" asked Frenzy. "Who scared ya that badly?"

Jasper feigned hesitation, as though debating whether to tell or not. Then he finally leaned forwards over his drink and lowered his voice. "Morgan Russell."

"Russell?" Rumble's features twisted in shock, and an unreadable look was shared so briefly between the three brothers that if Jazz hadn't been scanning their reactions he would've missed it entirely. "What did you go and do to piss him off?"

"I ain't sure, but I heard he was after meh 'n I weren't takin' any chances." Jazz drained the last of his piña colada and sat back. "I did know his lackey trine, Donovan, Denton 'n Octane. I caused 'em more 'n enough trouble, so mayb' that was it." He gestured towards the bar and the TV. "That his handiwork? Russell's, I mean."

"Assumption likely accurate," was the cautious reply from Samuel. "Prevention of talking."

"Figgered. Though Octane hardly struck meh as a squealer."

"He wasn't. The other two were. He woulda gone after us if we'd left him alive, though. That would just have been troublesome." Rumble got two outright glares for his comment before he realized the slip of his tongue, and he frowned at the smug grin that spread across Jazz's face.

"I knew it," he said. "Yer all in with him, ain't ya?"

"I..." Rumble seemed at a loss for words, and eyed his twin. Frenzy just intensified his glare.

"So what if we are?" demanded the redhead.

"I want in." Jazz crossed his arms over his chest at the sceptical, disbelieving looks his statement got. "Look, I know yeh lost yer recon people. I can fill th'gap. Or 'm a decent bodyguard. Special ops if need b'. 'M an all-rounder."

"And why should we trust you?" Frenzy snapped. Jazz let out a short bark of hollow laughter at that.

"Trust? Ha! I never said anythin' 'bout trust. I don' trust any o' yeh as far as I can throw yeh. 'M offerin' m'services, not m'trust. Believe meh, trustin' people is th'last thing someone like meh does."

"Sensible boy." Frenzy leaned back and looked expectantly at Samuel. The man stared unwaveringly at Jasper, who stared coolly back and met the gaze without so much as a flinch. The lieutenant knew he was being tested and looked through to see if he was as transparent as he appeared. He hoped enough of Foxtrot had awoken that he would pass. It felt like enough; he was taking all of this in his stride too easily. His posture remained easy but wary, primed in case he needed to bolt. He kept his expression mostly neutral, but he felt some flare-ups of a bloodlust he had nearly forgotten flash across it as the mahogany eyes of Samuel showed him just what the man had seen and done, and none of it good. Jazz was internally horrified to find a pang of yearning to go back to the mindless violence Foxtrot indulged in among the emotions he was keeping in check. The scrutiny seemed to last an age to the saboteur, but in reality it was only a couple of minutes before it ended.

"Why?" asked Samuel finally, not taking his eyes off Jasper's.

"'Cause I thought instead o' Russell wastin' resources 'n men searchin' fer meh, he could use another player. Ain't like m'gang's gonna take meh back, not after what I did."

"What did you do?" Rumble's hand came to rest on the lieutenant's shoulder, and Jazz made no move to get it off as he watched Samuel stand up and leave while taking his mobile out.

"Long story short, I saved the lives o' some o' th'rival gang members from a trap we'd set 'n they weren't happy. Tried t'kill meh fer it, I ended up murderin' five o' 'em before skippin' town."

"And this?" Rumble tried to touch the visor, and that's when Jazz smacked the hand away and held the wrist in an extremely tight grip just long enough to warn the dark-haired twin never to do that again.

"'M blind." The dreadlocked man tapped the electronics covering his temples. "These 'n th'optical band're now m'eyes." Said golden orbs narrowed behind their visor. "But if yeh think yer gettin' yer hands on this tech yeh've got another thing comin'."

"Blind, feisty and a bigger history than Morgan could ever dream of having. I like him," grinned Rumble.

"I noticed," snapped Frenzy sourly. He downed the remainder of his drink and stalked away from the table. Jazz blinked, looking a little confused, and the dark-haired man snorted.

"He's just jealous. Ignore him."

"Jealous?" Surprise, followed by slight suspicion. "What's he got to be jealous about?"

"I always get the pretty ones. C'mon, wanna dance some more?" Rumble tugged gently at Jazz's hand in invitation, and the lieutenant let himself be pulled out of the booth and to the dancefloor once more. He groaned as he recognized the song as Discolights, but decided to humor his dance partner and followed his lead.

If there was one thing Jazz wasn't, it was oblivious. He knew want when he saw it, however subtle or hidden it was, and right now that was Rumble all over. His advances so far hadn't been all that careful either, and Jazz was sure they were going to get more and more obvious. As he felt Rumble's hand on the small of his back guiding him, his mind whirled around. So far, Rumble was the only underling of Russell that wasn't overtly leery or envious of him, and he'd prefer to keep it that way. However, Jasper was unsure of how the younger twin would react to rejection of his advances, and the last thing he wanted was to lose the only somewhat stable, if tenuous, hold he had in Russell's crew.

On the other hand he didn't want to accept the advances simply because... well, Rumble wasn't Adam. It was only Adam he wanted to hold him like this, only Adam he wanted to hear his name spilling from and his real name at that, not the murderer he was quickly becoming once more. He didn't really register Rumble pulling them closer, as his mind was preoccupied with his best friend.

Best friend... boyfriend, maybe. As far as he knew, not even best friends with benefits shared the same passion he and Adam had that night. There was something else, something more than what Jazz was trying to tell himself there was between them, and his mind instantly threw imaginary confetti at him and welcomed him to the land of denial.

But he just didn't get it. Every time the brunette appeared in his thoughts his heart tugged almost painfully, and he felt the strange urge to go see him right that instant no matter where he was or what he was doing. There was also an insane surge of protectiveness, a raw, animalistic instinct that told him to prioritize keeping Adam safe and out of harm's way above everything else. He had never felt anything like it before, and highly doubted he would again. The question was why. Why was he feeling like this? Why Adam, of all people?

_Because you're in love with him._

An unbidden thought that sprang up out of seemingly nowhere startled Jazz so much he stumbled on the next couple steps of the dance he'd been unconsciously following with Rumble. The dark-haired man caught him with a smile, but Jasper barely acknowledged it in the stun of what his mind had produced as an answer. Love?

He was in _love_ with Adam?

That was impossible… And yet, in a weird way, it made perfect sense. It explained the protectiveness, the desire for closeness and the tight feeling in his chest. What it didn't explain was how he'd fallen so quickly, nor how someone like him could think he was worth enough to love Adam, let alone Adam love him back.

Oh.

Now that was a thought. Did Adam love him back? Was he the only one in this position?

No, Adam couldn't do. Couldn't, shouldn't, wasn't. Besides, what sane person would fall for someone like Jazz? He hardly had a clean past, and he certainly hadn't paid for any of his crimes. He'd killed, stolen, harmed, burned, shot and gambled, and only recently turned his life around. He was impulsive and rash, emotionally motivated, unstable, mouthy, insubordinate, a 'leap before you look' kind of person and never thought of the consequences his hasty, irresponsible actions could or would have. He'd hurt people, taken away from them a daughter, son, brother, father or aunt, and fucking _enjoyed_ it! He'd _enjoyed_ tormenting his captives, loved the look on their faces when they realized he wasn't going to spare them, that a _child_ was more than willing to go so far with no prompting from anyone. He didn't deserve Adam; he didn't deserve any of the things he had.

A tear slipped down his cheek as he felt Rumble draw him in for the last fading beats of the song and kiss him soundly. _Prowler, 'm sorry..._

* * *

'_And he wants to join me, you say?'_

"Affirmative, Lord Morgan." Samuel glanced back at the club he'd stepped outside of, as though he could see right through the tacky wall to the man who'd terrorized LA quite happily.

'_I see… And what's your assessment?'_

"Appears genuine. Foxtrot has changed, but unable to pin-point how. Also hiding something. Big, but seemingly embarrassing as opposed to suspicious."

'_Very well. I shall send Thane to a pre-arranged meeting place and he can test him. I want to see what this infamous Foxtrot has got after those years in hiding and evading me. He's finally in my grasp. I will send you the information once I have agreed it with Thane.'_

"Acknowledged." Samuel hit the end call button and walked purposefully back into the bar. He spotted Frenzy at the far end of the bar, nursing a triple vodka and Coke, and was by the younger man's side in an instant.

"Where are Rumble and Foxtrot?" he queried, and Frenzy looked hazily up at him, squinting, before shooting a venomously drunken glare towards the dance floor and pointing vaguely. Samuel turned in time to see his youngest brother just pulling his lips away from a rather pre-occupied looking Foxtrot's. Samuel watched them for several more seconds before nudging Frenzy to down the rest of his drink and then the two of them stalked over to the dancers, Frenzy hiccupping and weaving rather unsteadily.

Rumble saw them coming and raised an eyebrow in question.

"He is to be tested," intoned Samuel, noting a single track down Jasper's cheek that could only come from a tear. Either Rumble hadn't noticed or he was ignoring it. "Details will be given when I receive them."

"Thane?" Rumble asked, and got a nod. He glanced down at Jazz, whose gaze was nailed to the floor and sighed. "Fox, how do we reach you?"

"Yeh don'," answered Jazz quietly. "I'll b' here tomorrow. Find meh then. And don'," he added, deliberately pressing his heel right where it would hurt the most on Rumble's foot, "call meh Fox. It's Foxtrot, got it?"

"OW! Fuck, alright alright." Rumble wiggled his sore foot when Jazz released it and sent the saboteur a baleful look. Jazz ignored it.

"So, who's Thane?"

* * *

**Rae:** Another chapter down and Jazz has had an epiphany! \o/

And again with the Rumble/Jazz stuff..... HA that's your dose of crack for today! xDD


	8. Chapter 8

**Rae:** Finally, another chapter up! Cause, y'know, it's only taken me like 6 years... *glares at university work* Doesn't help when said work gives you writer's block either.

Anyway, onto the story! Hope you enjoy, much luffles, distractions from Byron and Thane and general nommings to my beta!

* * *

Adam checked his phone again for about the twentieth time in the space of half an hour, flipping it open and becoming just a little more worried when there was still nothing there. Byron gave him an exasperated look from across the table where they were sat together doing work and waved the end of his pen at him in a 'tsk tsk' manner.

"Dude, I know the graveyard shift's a snooze-fest and all, but honestly, checkin' your phone every two minutes ain't gonna make it go any faster." Adam didn't look up at the comms officer, choosing instead to scrunch up a ball of empty lined paper and toss it at his companion. Byron dodged it easily with a chuckle, but sobered up again fairly quickly. "Seriously man, chill. You're gettin' more and more worked up every time you open that damn thing. Do it again and I'm taking it off ya."

The brunette sighed, finally lifting his gaze to Byron's. "I'm waiting for Jazz to contact me."

"Y'know," said the red-head, putting his pen down on top of his paperwork and leaning back in his seat, raising an eyebrow, "a week ago you wanted nothin' to do with Jasper Miles. Now you're more worried about him than the entire station put together. Granted we ain't all that big, but my point still stands. What happened?"

"I..." Adam faltered, considering. "I guess I found I needed someone to help fill what Kyle left behind."

Byron snorted. "Shyeah, no kidding. We've been tryin' to tell ya that ever since you lost him. Has Jazz managed to get it through that stubborn head of yours yet that ya weren't to blame in the slightest?"

Adam smiled softly then, just a small quirk of the lips. "Yeah, I think so. He can rest now."

"Good." Byron was about to go back to his work when he paused abruptly while picking up his pen and cocked his head to one side. "Hey man, didja hear that?"

Adam too fell into a listening stance, not saying anything, and tried to catch what Byron was talking about. He was just getting ready to shake his head and ask what it was that the comms officer had heard when something sounded from outside down the corridor. Like someone was moving around. "Janitor, perhaps?"

"Naw, he went home a while ago." Byron stood up slowly, foisting his gun from where it was sat next to him on the table and moving to the door. Adam snatched up his own and followed him. The red-haired man silently signed '3, 2, 1' to the detective and then opened the door, swinging to point his weapon down one end of the corridor while Adam took the other. Another sound, louder this time, came from Byron's end, and Adam came back around to face that way, cursing when he found the comms officer was already well down the hallway. A quick jog brought him to the officer's back, and Byron made a motion round the corner before counting down from three again with his fingers. They both swifted around to face whoever was intruding, and made surprised noises at who they found tugging at a wrapping bandage winding its way around his hand.

Jazz didn't look at either of them, just grunted as he pulled some more at the loose end with his teeth, trying to tie it up. Adam silently holstered his weapon and moved forwards, taking Jazz's hand and carefully finishing off the strapping. Even then the saboteur didn't look at him, just murmured a resigned-sounding 'thanks' and hugged the appendage to his chest. Adam's breath caught slightly in worry, and he gripped Jazz's shoulders trying to get him to look up.

"Jazz, what happened? What did you do?"

"M'fist had an argument with a wall," was the sour reply. "Th'wall won."

"And why were ya pickin' fights with walls?" Byron moved to Jazz's right side, placing a comforting hand on that arm as the two of them guided Jasper back to the meeting room they'd commandeered for their shared work space. The dreadlocked man merely shook his head vaguely, apparently pre-occupied in thought. He was pushed to sit down on one of the chairs when they got there, and Byron disappeared to get him a warm cup of something to drink. Adam clasped Jazz's hands in his own, and finally golden eyes raised to meet his.

"Jazz, what's wrong?"

"They're testin' meh," he replied quietly, tightening his grip around Adam's fingers. "I dunno when; could b' tomorrow, could b' a week from now. I think if I pass, 'm in."

"Well that's good! The best news we've had for a couple days."

Jazz grimaced. "It ain't fer meh. Prowler, 'm afraid o' what they'll have meh do in th'test. I've let enough o' Foxtrot through t'pass scrutiny, but if they ask meh t'kill anyone -" Jazz cut himself off suddenly with a soft choking noise, and Adam immediately understood. He gathered the unresisting form in front him into a hug, felt hands cling to the back of his shirt like they'd never let go. "I dunno if I could control it this time," he whispered hesitantly, as though speaking it out loud would make his fears true.

"You can and you will," said Adam firmly, drawing away and making Jazz look him in the eyes. "You're stronger than that. You threw Foxtrot away once, you can do it again."

"But I -"

"_But_ you didn't have me then. You do now." Adam pressed a chaste kiss to Jazz's lips. "You'll come back to me, won't you?"

Jasper didn't say anything for several seconds, Adam's words jolting something inside of him. He... _wanted_ him back? Was he really asking that? The answer was so obvious, but the fact it was coming from the person Jazz found himself caring about more than anyone else and the person he'd convinced himself would never want a man like him threw him for a loop.

"Always," Jazz finally affirmed, dragging the heel of his hand across his eyes and touching the detective's cheek with the other. "But why?"

"Why what?" Adam looked surprised.

"Why would yeh want meh back? Prowler, 'm a killer. I ain't atoned fer what I did back then, I've never fergiven mehself. I don' deserve yeh, I don' deserve anythin' I have."

"Don't say that," was the sharp rebutt. "Don't _ever_ say that."

"But it's true!" Jazz didn't look up when Byron came back in and placed a hot chocolate next to him, knowing full well that Jazz didn't drink coffee. Besides, from the looks of things coffee was the last thing the African-American needed. "I don' care I snapped outta it 'n turned m'life around; that ain't enough t'make meh pay fer takin' th'life o' someone's kid, someone's parent, someone's siblin'. If anythin' it's rubbin' it in their faces! Th'one who took their livelihoods away from 'em is now helpin' 'em? That ain't atonement, that's mockery 'n ironic t'boot."

"Do you feel remorse?" asked Byron quietly, unflinching when Jazz swiftly nailed him with an annoyed glare.

"O' course I do! There ain't a day goes past I wish I could take it all back, start again. There ain't a mornin' I don' wake up 'n wish it were all a bad dream, that it had never happened."

"Then that's the first big step to forgiving yourself." The red-haired man put his head to one side. "Look Jazz, you'll never be able to take back what ya did, but note the past tense; it's history, it's over. Done with. You are a completely different person now, savin' a life in a heartbeat instead of takin' one. The only one who hasn't forgiven you is yourself. You gotta stop beatin' yourself up."

"Easy fer yeh t'say," Jazz snapped back. "It ain't about fergiveness! 'M a joke of a hypocrite. 'M sendin' people t'jail fer murder, rape, espionage, y'name it, 'n here's meh sittin' pretty havin' murdered God knows how many people 'n tortured a load o' 'em beforehand without havin' had any jail time whatsoever. Where's th'fairness in that?" By the time the saboteur was finished his voice had raised nearly to a shout, a simmering self-loathing bubbled barely contained under the surface. "By all rights I should b' dead! Th'death penalty is fer people like meh, that's why it exists!"

"Oh Jazz..." Adam ran his fingers down Jazz's jawline, holding him still when the African-American tried to flinch away. "You _did_ atone." A snort of disbelief and an aversion of golden eyes was his next response. "Jazz, how many people did you kill? And how many people have you saved since? Touched their lives in a positive way?" The eyes warily came back to his. "I know I'm one of them. I'm willing to bet anything that you have helped more people than you ever harmed. I mean, you'd already started pulling yourself back together when that gang runner took you in after you'd been shot." Adam's fingers ghosted over where the scars were hidden underneath a black tank top. "Either you have atoned or you're well on your way to it. Whichever it is, don't ever think otherwise."

"Yeh should b' arrestin' meh, not tryin' t'make meh feel better," grumbled Jazz, making Byron chuckle.

"Statute of limitations," the red-head said simply.

"Thought there wasn't one fer murder." Jazz looked confused, and Adam shook his head.

"Michigan's the only state that has it. You're well past it, therefore we can't do anything. Besides," the detective added, "I swear you've done more self-recrimination and punishment than jail time could ever put you through."

That got a small giggle from the saboteur, and Adam relaxed a little and smiled softly. Byron stood up and ruffled at Jazz's dreadlocks, citing a squawk of protest from the man, and disappeared saying he had some more inventory to do. Adam watched him go with a raised eyebrow; he knew full well the comms officer wasn't in charge of inventory, and he sure as heck didn't have anything to do for it. The puzzle was quickly forgotten when the man still sat in front of him launched himself at the detective, wrapped toned arms around his neck and kissed him almost desperately. Adam returned it automatically, one hand tangling itself in long dark dreads and the other encircling Jazz's waist, bringing him closer. When their lips broke apart Jazz buried his face into Adam's shoulder, and the detective just held him, embraced him.

"Thank yeh," came the quiet words from the saboteur in Adam's lap, muffled somewhere in his shoulder.

"For what?" The brunette tightened his arms, feeling Jazz relax just a little bit more.

"Everythin'. An' puttin' meh back on track. I jus'... I needed t' hear that."

"Anytime." Adam pushed Jazz gently back enough he could brush another kiss against those full lips that had now lost most of their tension. Jazz barely bit back a noise when he noted how much care and trust radiated from the blue orbs that gazed steadily at him. His heart contracted sharply, almost painfully, in his chest, and he knew that if he didn't break this soon he'd be saying things he'd rather not have thrown out into the open. He grinned, a vague one compared to his usual blinding ones, but a genuine grin nonetheless, and started to get up. Adam let him, waiting until the dreadlocked man was off his legs before he moved gracefully to his own feet. He picked up the forgotten hot chocolate and pressed into Jazz's slightly startled hands. "Drink that, you'll feel better."

Jasper took a sip of it, pleasantly surprised to find it was still hot, and let the heat spread through his body, relaxing him as best it could. He offlined his visor for a moment, enjoying the moment to himself inside his own thoughts. He sorted through them, calming his mind and going over what Byron and Adam had just told him. It made sense, but his brain was still trying to refuse the belief he'd made up for anything. He growled internally at himself and shoved that away, beginning the process of replacing it with the desire to do more to help. If he could bring Russell down then he could save so many people, put so many others away.

And then, he thought, what about the ones he was determined to catch? If he could turn himself completely around then couldn't they? He could aid them in doing just that, could help them get more out of life than what they had. Looking back on himself made Jazz realize that he, actually, had nothing the entire time he was Foxtrot. The fear of others and sought-after thrills were only temporary highs to him, like drugs he'd managed to wean himself off. He had so much more to his life now, more substance and an ostensibly permanent tendril of happiness that weaved its way through his very core. He could teach others to find that for themselves. Those thoughts settled more of the turmoil in his head, and he unwound just a little bit more. He took another sip of his hot chocolate and onlined his visor to find Adam smiling softly at him, which the saboteur returned whole-heartedly.

"Prowler, I'm gonna jet. If I get caught round here..." He trailed off, waving vaguely, and Adam nodded. He cupped Jazz's cheek in one hand.

"Stay safe," he said firmly, placing a kiss carefully on the other's forehead. "And keep me posted."

"I'll do m'best." There was a flash of a wide grin, the feel of a small caress on his shoulder, and then Jazz vanished seemingly into thin air. Adam was left standing next to the meeting table, one hand moving to rest on it for support as he leaned on it and a slight smile gracing his lips. His eyes were kept trained on the wall opposite him even as Byron came back in.

"Y'get it all sorted?"

"You knew." It wasn't a question on Adam's part, nor did his gaze shift.

"Kinda. I guessed, I didn't know. Besides, I woulda given ya space anyway; you're his partner, not me." Byron plopped himself neatly onto the table, dangling his legs off the side of it and kicking them slowly. "What is he to you, man?"

There was silence for a couple minutes, making Byron wonder if he'd over-stepped the line with that question, before a quiet answer was given. "Everything."

* * *

Jazz unlocked his door and switched off the alarm with a sigh. He actually felt lighter, like a weight he hadn't realized he'd been carrying had been mostly removed. He could still feel the darkness somewhere in the recesses of his psyche, and he suspected it would be there for the rest of his life, but he now felt like he could push back Foxtrot as easily as he could his office chair from his desk. However, Foxtrot was still needed and thus he would have to stay for now.

The saboteur rummaged through the fridge for some leftovers and threw a bolognese in the microwave, flopping down in a chair as he waited for it heat up. There was still the puzzle of how to pull off a kill without _actually_ killing anyone, and he drummed his fingers idly on the table's wooden top as he thought about it. The 'ping' of the microwave to tell him his dinner was ready brought him out of his musings only briefly, and he went straight back to them as soon as he armed himself with a fork and sat down with the food.

It was about an hour later while digging through some old encyclopaedias and books he had in his bedroom that he recalled something Ryan told him about once a few years ago while he was still in the trials for his visor. Wade had carried a small animal into the lab - a little possum, if he remembered right - and set it down nearby. It wasn't moving and didn't look to be breathing, and Jazz asked why he was bringing in a dead animal to examine. Wade had thrown him a wide grin and stated that it wasn't dead at all. Rather, it was imitating death so closely that observers and examiners could come to no other conclusion. It was known as thanatomimesis; possums, apparently, were especially good at it which is where the phrase 'playing possum' came from.

Jasper closed his current encyclopaedia slowly and thoughtfully on his desk, resting one hand its cover while the other held a finger delicately to his chin. He had time tomorrow, perhaps he could go see Ryan about anything that could be used to induce the thanatomimesis before meeting up with the twins and Samuel again. His conscience would be clean then about making "kills". Or, clean_er_, anyway. After all, Foxtrot had no reason to trust Russell or his men, insistence on using his own rounds and weaponry wouldn't seem all that far-fetched.

That decided, the African-American put all the books he'd got out back into their storage box and kicked it carelessly under his desk. He'd put them away when he actually had time. Jasper stretched, feeling the bones in his spine crack in protest, and then fell backwards onto his bed with a satisfied sigh. He was going to need some rest, tomorrow promised to be full of surprises.

* * *

Jasper screeched into the research lab car park with all the skill of a racing driver, snagging the nearest space before a rather startled Ford driver could even think about taking it. He revved the engine once before killing it, and then hopped out in time to catch the Ford owner's annoyed glare aimed at him. Jazz grinned unrepentantly and locked his Porsche before jogging to the main building entrance. He was greeted by a couple of the lab assistants and a doctor, who were thrown a hasty 'hi' back as he wend his way down the corridors until he reached Ryan's workroom. It didn't sound like anyone was in, but his knuckles rapped sharply on the door as he called out, "Rai! I need your help!"

There was a scuffling, muffled cursing and then the door swung open as a frustrated-looking Ryan ushered him inside. Jazz raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Instead he hopped up onto one of the examination tables, waiting for the surgeon to finish what he was doing so his focus could be placed solely on the African-American. It took around ten minutes before Ryan finally came back through to the main work area, hands in pockets and blue eyes demanding, questioning.

"Why are you here, Jazz? I don't have you scheduled."

"I know. I was hopin' yeh could work sommat out fer meh. Or Wade or Perce. I don' care who."

"Work out what?" Ryan leaned against another examination berth, arms coming up and folding across his chest as one eyebrow arched invitingly.

"D'yeh remember when Wade brought that possum in here a few years ago, 'n I asked him why he was examinin' dead animals, 'n he told meh it wasn't dead jus' pretendin'?" A grunt of assent followed alongside a snort. "Is there anyway t' induce that thanatomimetic state?"

"Induce it? You mean, force it?"

"Yeah." Jazz waved his hands around in the air vaguely. "If they ask meh t'kill, I can hardly refuse. They're expectin' th'merciless slaughterhouse I was in LA."

"However," interrupted Ryan, catching on, "if you can make it _look _like you've killed someone without actually having done so..."

The saboteur nodded firmly. "Exactly. I can become an apparent murderer without resortin' t'th'real thing."

"You might very well be onto something. Good thinking, lieutenant." The surgeon promptly turned around and turned on the private PA system that linked him to Wade. Or Wade's lab, at least. "Jack, get your ass here. Stat!" He cut the connection and pursed his lips. "I don't think inducing the death imitation is going to be the difficult part," he said thoughtfully, as though he was speaking more to himself than Jasper. "I think it's going to be making sure that the effects are only temporary."

"Can yeh make an antidote or sommat?" suggested the lieutenant, leaning back on his hands and crossing his legs. "I can mayb' slip it t' 'em later."

"It's possible. We're going to have to see what we can make the inducer out of first of all." Both heads turned to the door as it hissed open to reveal the rather haggard form of Wade Jackson. Ryan glared at the scientist. "Wade, when did you last get any sleep?"

"That bad, huh?" ventured Wade, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Busted."

"You look like shit," snorted the medic bluntly, earning a snicker out of Jazz. "As soon as we're done here you better get some rest or so help me I am going to tranquilize you for the next three days." Ryan waved a needle threateningly in the scientist's direction.

"I will I will," Wade waved his hands hastily in front of him in a dissuading gesture. "Now, what's so - oh hey Jazz - important?"

"Thanatomimesis."

"I'm afraid to ask," sighed Wade. "But I'll bite. What about it?"

"Temporary induction of it, that's what. Any way to do it?"

Wade opened his mouth to say something and then snapped his jaw shut again, pondering. "Not off the top of my head," he said at last. "Leave it with me though, Percy and I can work on. How soon do you need it?"

"As soon as yeh can," answered Jazz. "Preferably b'fore m'entry test t' Russell's roughpack. An' no, I dunno when it is," he added as he saw the question on Wade's face.

"Make things as difficult as possible, why don't you?" muttered the scientist. "Alright, it's a priority project." Wade left the room murmuring to himself and tapping his palm, already working on ideas and theories. Ryan shook his head as soon as his friend left.

"I swear, that man..."

"Can yeh gimme a ring when yeh get some progress or news or sommat?" asked Jasper, sliding gracefully down off the examination table and digging his car keys out. Ryan nodded and picked up a clipboard and pen, handing it over to the dreadlocked man.

"As long as I can get the number of your burn phone. Lord knows you won't be using your own."

Jazz scribbled his number onto the paper attached to the clipboard and handed both it and the pen back to the surgeon, and then with a 'good-bye' and 'thank you' he vanished out of the door, leaving it to hiss quietly closed behind him and Ryan to frown slightly in concern.

* * *

Morgan was silent for a couple of minutes as he clasped his hands behind his back, interlacing his fingers delicately. He wasn't facing the three men standing behind his desk, but he did address them when he spoke.

"Foxtrot will need a much bigger test than our other recruits. He vanishes off the grid just as I start to close in on him, we hear nothing of Foxtrot for years and then suddenly he reappears out of nowhere wanting into my service? I'm not sure I buy it. He's going to have to prove himself."

"That can be arranged." Thane's deeper, calmer tones sounded as Spencer snorted derisively.

"Well I don't like it at all," the second in command declared emphatically. "I don't know why we're even considering him, especially after Los Angeles."

"It's _because_ of Los Angeles that I'm considering him," snapped Morgan, finally turning to face his lead trine with a scowl. "I need some of his ruthlessness in my organization, unlike the pathetic excuses I'm forced to work with now."

"Then why are _your_ hands never dirtied, oh wise and glorious leader?" asked Spencer sarcastically, and Warren hissed at him to 'shut the fuck up' while Thane rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, waiting for the fireworks.

They weren't long in coming.

Morgan's scowl turned murderous, and before any of them could react he had Spencer pinned against the wall of his office with one hand wrapped dangerously around his neck while the other pressed its knuckles into the younger man's abdomen, a warning should he try and escape. Spencer scrabbled futilely at the hand grasping his neck. "You listen and listen well you glitching, rusty son of a bitch," seethed the crime lord. "I am keeping our face with the public. The police are the ones trying to bring me down, and they haven't succeeded because of _my_ abilities to run this organization and hide what we really do. The public see us as a company whose profits go to charities and otherwise helping them, they suspect nothing. _I_ remain the face of this company, _I_ keep the feds from finding anything, _I_ clean up the messes you bastards leave behind. Without me you'd be in jail - or worse - right now." Morgan let Spencer go with disdain, watching him fall to the floor coughing and massaging his throat. "Don't forget it."

Thane eyed his downed commander, silent for a minute, and then he spoke up. "My Lord?"

"What?" Morgan's gaze shifted swiftly to the dark-haired man.

"We have a drug shipment due into the docks in four days' time. However, the only dock they could get moored in is heavily guarded, and they can't unload the shipment themselves without being caught. We need to take care of the security." The assault specialist paused, tilting his head to one side. "I believe that is as good a chance as any for the infamous Foxtrot to prove himself to us."

"And risk a double-cross?" Morgan raised an eyebrow, but Thane shook his head.

"I highly doubt that. Foxtrot is a loner, even when he called himself a gang-runner. He does things of his own accord, has no allegiance to anyone but himself. He has no interest in money, he's only in it for the kicks. I don't think we need to worry about being double-crossed; the thrill of bloodshed should be more than sufficient for him."

The crime lord walked slowly back to his desk, mulling Thane's words over in his head. The loss of the shipment would mean a rather large set-back putting heavy pressure on his shoulders, but on the other hand...

"Do it," he said finally. "But I'm holding _you_,_" _he pointed at the tactician, "responsible, understand? Anything happens, it's your head."

Thane bowed said body part respectfully, recognizing the dismissal, and turned swiftly and left. Warren looked unsure as to whether to stay or follow Thane out, but the decision was made for him when Morgan added in a not-so-gentle tone that they get out as well. He scuttled after Spencer, who swept from the room in a haughty, almost regal, manner.

Russell sat down in his chair and waited for a few more moments, enjoying the peace and quiet, before reaching out for his phone and dialling Samuel. The information specialist answered with his usual monotone greeting.

"I'm sending you the details of Foxtrot's test," said Morgan, getting straight to the point. "When are you meeting with him again?"

'_Tonight. The Broken Palm._'

"Do not give him the information. Not yet. Wait until the day actually arrives. That way he can't tell anyone who could potentially pose a threat about the shipment. And Samuel?"

'_Yes my Lord?_'

"I want to know more about where he's been hiding and what he's been doing. Dig up as much as you can about him."

'_Affirmative._' The dial tone sounded, indicating the blue-haired man had hung up, and Morgan growled slightly. Foxtrot had better be worth all this trouble. He stared down at his hands, curling them into fists and then uncurling them slowly. Well, they'd just have to see, wouldn't they?

* * *

**Rae: **Jazz seems to be having a lot of epiphanys...

For the record, Michigan doesn't actually have a statute of limitations for murder. Whatcha think? x


	9. Chapter 9

**Rae:** Finally, another chapter up! I'm sorry, my muse ran out on me. I managed to kick and beat him til he came back, and he's going to stay if he knows what's good for him. On the bright side I've finished my first year of uni so updates -should- be faster! (So she says...)

Anyway, enjoy, and thanks to my wonderful beta for a quick go-over despite being knackered! x

* * *

"Jazz you shouldn't even be here," said Adam agitatedly, trying again to grab at the slippery lieutenant in front of him, but Jasper just danced out of the way with a cackle. "Give me those. _Now_."

"Why?" Jazz stepped around Adam's desk further as the brunette made towards him. "It ain't like yeh need 'em right now." They remained at opposite sides of the desk eyeing each other, one with an expression of sheer irritation tinged with exasperated amusement and the other with nothing but teasing mirth drawn across his features. Adam shifted round to try and catch Jazz off-guard, but the dreadlocked man was far too fast and they found themselves facing each other again on different sides of the desk. Jasper raised the handcuffs he'd yoinked off his partner, swinging them around one finger.

"Jazz..." Adam chased him around again to the lieutenant's snickers.

"What're yeh gonna do, arrest meh? Kinda hard t'do that, don'tcha think?"

Adam paused for several seconds, gaze never leaving Jazz's, and then a smirk was the only warning the saboteur got before the detective launched himself over the top of his desk and landed on top of Jazz on the other side. He wrestled the handcuffs from a dark hand and skittered away to the other end of the room, securing them to his belt and glaring at Jazz who was still lying on the floor in surprise.

There was silence for a minute, and then Jazz burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he curled in on himself holding his stomach, entire body vibrating, a full, rich, musical sound that made Adam want to hear more of it. When the giggles eventually subsided the wide grin remained, and he flipped himself up off the floor and dusted his clothes off. "Man Prowler, talk 'bout a surprise attack! I never expected that kinda thing from yeh, let alone lettin' yerself b' dragged int' th'game in th'firs' place."

"You took my stuff," retorted the detective. "I wanted it back."

"Still..." Jazz sighed happily and flopped backwards into Adam's chair. His hand came up and switched off his visor, and his head fell back over the top of the chair back as his golden eyes slid closed. He heard Adam walk steadily back towards him but didn't move, thinking the brunette only wanted to get some of his papers. What he didn't anticipate were the handcuffs that snapped around his wrists, effectively trapping them behind the chair back. He sent a startled look to where he thought Adam was; his visor was manually operated, and because he couldn't reach up and turn it back on he couldn't actually _see_ what was going in that beautiful head of Adam's, let alone the detective himself.

His question was answered when he felt a warm body sit down on his lap, legs either side of his own, and a pair of lips capture his fairly forcefully. He groaned in loss when they left his, and Adam chuckled.

"What? It was your suggestion I arrest you," he grinned.

"Kinky bastard," muttered Jazz, completely uncaring that he was still blind. "I didn't mean it like this!"

"Are you complaining?"

Jazz gave him a disbelieving look. "Do I look like I'm complainin'?"

"Good. Then shut up." Those familiar lips descended on his once more, and his world was lost.

* * *

Byron shook his head as he passed Jasper making his way down to the garage with a wide grin on his face, and a flash of bruised skin in the dark neck seemed to confirm what his mind was telling him.

"Hey man," he said, snatching Jazz's arm and halting him in his steps, "Ya might wanna hide that hickey a bit better. You and Adam'll be gettin' a lot of weird questions otherwise." A look of surprise shot across the saboteur's face, followed closely by confusion.

"Thought we were keepin' it on th'down-low," he said quietly.

"Oh you are," reassured Byron, letting go of Jazz's arm, "I just take the time to actually _look_ at my fellow co-workers. I noticed somethin' between you two. Adam confirmed it yesterday when you had that break-down on us."

"Ah." Jazz rubbed absently at the mark on his neck. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that."

"What're friends for?" Byron gave Jasper a friendly clap to the back and started walking off, waving over his shoulder. "Better not hang around here too much while you're undercover. Catch ya later, man!"

Jazz watched the red-haired man go with a smile. In a way, he and the communications officer were quite similar; they both loved good music, didn't like formalities, were easy-going and relished a challenge. However Byron didn't have the haunted look Jazz had, the look he always saw in the mirror in both body and eyes. Being only 26 years old that look should not be there in any shape or form, but it was. He knew it worried those who bothered to look closely enough to see it, like Ryan and Adam, but he also knew that haunted visage would always be there and he'd just accepted it. Personally he was glad Byron didn't have anything like that. The comms officer's face was cheery, bright and, most of all, free. Free of the weights this world could throw on you, free of pain, free of burdens. It had been a while since he'd come across someone whose demons weren't strong enough to visible in any way, and it made him feel happier remembering that there was still innocence in this world to protect.

Even the twins Sunny and Sidam had the taint of a haunted look, but they were better at masking it than Jazz. It wasn't nearly as blatant on them. He stopped outside the door leading to the precinct garage and glanced back up the corridor to where Byron had disappeared. For all he'd done and been through, this precinct didn't seem to care. Orion didn't, Alex didn't, Simon didn't, Skylar didn't, Ben didn't... and Adam certainly didn't. They accepted him the way he was now, gave him a fresh start and somewhere he could start to call 'home'. His lips thinned into a determined line. He would do this, he _could_ do this. Not for himself though, for the precinct. For Byron, for Orion.

For Adam.

* * *

Pulling up a couple streets over from the Broken Palm Jazz made sure he still had his burn phone and his earring was still intact. He swiveled it briefly, knowing he had to keep moving it occasionally to stop the skin healing to the earring post, and hopped out the Porsche. A stray dread was pushed back into place as he locked the car, and he scanned around him quickly before pushing off to the club. He grinned when he realized he could feel the bass rumbling before he ever heard the music spilling from his destination; apparently the DJ was having a _really_ wild party.

As he rounded the corner to the club entrance two figures stepped out next to him, and Jazz paused to work out who they were and what they wanted. He relaxed a little as he recognized Sunny and Sidam, and backtracked a little so they could talk better.

"What's up?" He greeted as they leaned against the side of the building next to the club. "Sommat wrong?"

"No, we're just making sure you know what the fuck you're doing," said Sunny bluntly. "Morgan's not that easy to fool."

"Samuel's even harder," replied Jazz, cocking his head to one side. "And no, I ain't got a damn clue what th'fuck 'm doin'. 'M makin' this up as I go."

"What are you, nuts?" snapped Sidam, pushing off the wall and moving so he was nearly on top of the smaller man. Jazz just looked calmly back into the annoyed aqua eyes staring straight at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "The last thing you should do is go in without a plan!"

"Plans tend t'go awry a lot, Siders, I work better on m'toes. Spontaneity, thinkin' on th'spot 'n all that. Th'enemy can't work out yer plan if ya haven't got a plan t'start with." Jazz took a small step away from the taller man and moved his hands to his hips. "I know 'm gonna get found out eventually, that's a given. But it's impossible t'predict where, when 'n how." He sighed and turned his gaze back down the street towards the club. "Look, Foxtrot's known fer doin' whatever he wants whenever he wants however he wants. Impulsiveness 'n secrecy on mah part is expected, they'll b'more suspicious if that ain't th'case."

"Sides, drop it," said Sunny, slowly levering himself upright and straightening out his clothes. "Jazz will be fine. He might not have a plan in mind, but that's not what I was asking."

"You asked if he knew what he was doing," said Sidam, whirling to face his twin. "He-"

"And he does." Sunny smoothly and effectively cut off his brother. "That's all I needed to know."

"Where're yeh goin' now?" asked Jazz, watching Sidam deflate under Sunny's gaze. Both pairs of eyes looked back at him, and Sidam's mouth quirked upwards slightly while Sunny dug his hands into his pockets and tightened his lips.

"Back into hiding, where else?" Sidam shrugged. "We're staying there until you take Morgan down. He's out for our blood."

"There ain't a guarantee I will," warned Jazz.

"Sunny's confident you can do it, and I trust his judgement on these things. If he says you know what you're doing then I have to believe him." They both start walking away, Sidam shooting out a parting wave. Jazz waggled his fingers back, eyeing them curiously, and then shook his head and headed back to his original destination.

When he entered the club he winced slightly as the full volume of the music hit his ears, and he made his way to the bar trying to get used to it before his eardrums burst. He ordered two vodka shots straight up and a Bacardi and Coke. The bartender brought them over pretty quickly and Jazz pushed a 20 over the countertop, pleased to note his hearing was toning itself down a bit to compensate for the music volume. He tossed both shots back one right after the other, shuddering at the brief burning it made down his throat and the buzz it gave him afterwards. He pulled the Coke towards him, swirling the straw around and watching the ice cubes clack together, before his gaze turned its attention to the bar. It roamed around the room, searching for any sign of Samuel, Rumble or Frenzy, but stopped when he spotted another, different known face sat at a table near the entrance.

He'd never spoken to Naomi since she was pointed out to him at Blue Ice, but then through that chance meeting with Rumble here meant he hadn't had to. He studied the woman thoughtfully, sipping his drink. She was pretty, he decided. Quite strikingly so, actually, and with a perfect body to boot. Had Jazz seen her before joining up with Detroit PD he would've been putting the moves on her by now, but to his slight surprise he felt no desire whatsoever to do anything other than observe. Jasper sighed to himself and scrunched his nose up briefly. This was getting ridiculous; apparently his brain decided that he loved Adam too much to even think about someone else. He wasn't sure whether to be thanking it or slagging it off. Naomi's black hair shifted slightly and covered her face as she glanced down towards her lap, maybe to a phone, and then her head came up sharply to meet Jazz's gaze. He narrowed his eyes a little at being caught, but she just continued to stare at him unwaveringly with an unreadable expression for a few seconds until her attention was diverted elsewhere.

The dreadlocked man slowly swiveled his barstool round to face away from Naomi and frowned into his Coke, resting his elbows on the surface in front of him. She'd only caught him because she'd looked up from whatever it was that was in her lap. And it obviously hadn't just been a feeling she was being watched as she hadn't searched around. She'd looked straight at _him_. Maybe someone had texted her about him? If so, who? He groaned and let his forehead fall onto the bar counter.

"Not drunk already, are you?" came an amused voice behind him, and Jazz lifted up an elbow enough to see a bit of a dark red jacket and a few strands of blue-tipped hair under it.

"Nope, jus' frustrated." Jazz raised his head then and allowed a chaste kiss from Rumble before the seat next to him became occupied.

"What from?"

"Her." Jazz indicated towards Naomi by thumbing her seat over his shoulder. "I saw her when I was at Blue Ice a few days ago, 'n I was watchin' her a couple minutes b'fore yeh arrived but I think someone told her I was watchin'. She caught meh at it, no way did she jus' feel meh gaze."

"And you're concerned over who it was."

"Yeah." A sudden thought occurred to him. "Rumble, d'yeh know her?"

"Naomi? Not well, no. She's been around a couple times, but I dunno what she's like or anything. All I hear are rumors, and essentially they say she's like you except with more subtlety." Rumble grinned at Jazz's derisive snort. "And boobs."

That made the lieutenant cackle. "I'd b' worried if I had them, man." He drained some more of his drink and gave voice to his initial thought. "So she does work fer Russell. Or with him, at least. Think she hit th'prison?"

Rumble considered. "I wouldn't put it past her," he said eventually. "I gather she's plenty skillful enough. Sam would know better than me."

"He said he didn't."

"He didn't trust you and therefore had no reason to part with the information." Rumble shrugged and slid off the seat. "He still doesn't." He offered a hand to Jazz, who ignored it and hopped off his own stool himself, snagging up his drink as did. Rumble looked a little put out that he hadn't accepted the help, but bounced quickly back by stepping in front of the saboteur and lifting him up by the waist, making Jazz squeak in surprise and put a hand on Rumble's shoulder for support. Gold eyes met burgundy, and Rumble's smile widened. Thankfully he wasn't kissed, but he had to put up with being carried out of the bar because every time he wriggled to be set down Rumble would just tighten his grip. Jasper resigned himself to it, and scarpered a few feet away as soon as he was placed on both feet outside.

"I don' like being picked up," he said plaintively. "Don' do that."

"But it's fun messing with people," snickered Rumble.

Jazz huffed. "B' that as it may, 'm more curious as t' whether yeh've got m'test sorted out."

Rumble shrugged and shook his head. "Not that I'm aware, no. But then," he added, "me and Frenzy are just grunts even if we are Samuel's brothers. No one tells us anything." Jazz groaned and downed several gulps of his alcohol-tainted Coke, completely ignoring the straw. The dark-haired man eyed him for a minute and then piped up again. "Foxtrot, you'd've killed someone for doing something you didn't like back in LA. Something change?"

"Yeah." Jazz ran his tongue over his lips to make sure he'd got all the Coke off them. "I found mehself on th'run." He put the remainder of his drink down and shifted his weight onto one hip. "'M used t' havin' others runnin' from meh, not th'other way around. I was rash 'n foolhardy back then, sommat I've grown out of 'n gotten a lot better at not bein'."

"Well, I don't really care either way." Rumble moved to Jazz's side and wrapped an arm around the saboteur's waist. "Foxtrot is Foxtrot, right?" He leaned down and brushed lips to Jazz's ear. "What say you and I blow this joint and go have some fun?"

Jazz narrowed his eyes and pushed the dark-haired man away rather sharply. "I don' play bitch fer no one," he said shortly to Rumble's surprised visage. "An' I certainly don' screw around freely."

"But I thought-"

"I don' give mehself away like that," interrupted Jazz with an air of finality. "Yeh gotta earn a lot more o' m'trust t' even _think_ 'bout tryin' anythin'." His unrepentant stare met Rumble's pleading one and held it until the younger man threw his hands up in an 'I give up' gesture and made an aggravated noise.

"Aww, poor Rumble's not getting any!" An amused, snide voice from behind Jazz made Rumble snap his glare to his twin, but Jasper kept up the air he hadn't heard and continued to ignore Frenzy. He'd sensed the younger's presence from the moment Rumble sat down next to him in the club, and the sudden idea that -he'd- been the one to tell Naomi popped up in his mind. He gave voice to the statement before he thought about it.

"Ya told Naomi about meh, didn't yeh?" It was a rhetorical question which was answered by the startled expression that morphed across Frenzy's face.

"How did you-"

"I ain't an idiot, whatever else yeh take meh fer," snapped back Jazz. "Why'd yeh do it?"

"I..." Frenzy looked lost for a moment before Samuel glided silently into view behind his brother, placing a firm, silencing hand on the jacketed shoulder in front of him.

"Ordered to," replied Samuel. "Reaction to Foxtrot sought and accomplished. Explanation unnecessary."

"In other words classified. Fer meh, anyway." Jazz drained his drink and crunched on an ice cube.

Samuel inclined his head slightly and then changed stance, body language indicating a topic shift since his voice never seemed to. There was no pre-amble. "Test confirmed, but unable to give details until test date."

"So I don' go rattin' yeh out. Wonderful." Jazz growled and fell backwards onto a nearby chair, slouching and waving his hands irritably. "I've got an order o' ballistics comin' in th'next few days. Can't yeh even give meh a hint so I can say when I need 'em fer?"

A shake of Samuel's head at the same time Rumble piped up. "You have your own weapons?"

"'Course I do." An eyebrow raised. "What, yeh expect meh t'trust th'weapons I get given by th'man tryin' t'kill meh fer fuck knows how many years now? Nu-uh. 'Sides, mine're more excitin'." A rather manic look flared very briefly across his features and shoved a piece of paper across to Rumble, who took it and examined it before passing it to Samuel. "M'phone number. Call meh when yeh can tell meh sommat useful 'n not before." Jazz stood up abruptly and began to walk back to his Porsche. "I coulda been out bashin' in some heads tonight, but nooooooo," he called scathingly over his shoulder. "I had t'come 'n get told jack shit alongside an invitation someone shoulda known better than t'offer meh."

He vanished before any of the brothers could say anything more, and there was silence before Frenzy broke it with a snort and punched his twin not-so-gently on the arm.

"You really know how to pick them, don't you?"

"Oh will you shut up?"

* * *

Jazz groaned and rolled over in bed, grabbing his pillow and attempting to block out the sound of something going off at an ungodly hour in the morning. Only when it persisted in getting louder did he realize it was his phone ringing, and he scrambled about on his bedside stand to find and answer it. A listen for a couple seconds to the ID ringtone told him it was Ryan and he pressed the call button. "'Lo?"

_'Glad to hear you so awake and chipper,' _was the dry reply.

Jazz flopped onto his back and massaged at his eyes. "Too early, Doc. What's up?"

_'Wade thinks he and Percy have made some progress in your toxin request, but they've got to test it. Provided it doesn't go kablooey before we even inject it into the poor rat it should work. They decided to go with your 'poison-antidote' suggestion. We'd like you to be there, see what happens and what you think and then maybe help us put it into some rounds for you to actually use.'_

"Sounds great." Jazz sat up, a little more awake now. "Any specific time yeh want meh there?"

_'No, but you'd better make it the sooner the better.'_

"Roger that, Rai. I'll b' in later this mornin' then." Jazz hung up after a quick goodbye and fished around for his visor, locating it pretty quickly next to where he'd picked his phone up from. A quick twist around of his earring to make sure it still did and hadn't separated during the night and he laid slowly back down, staring at his ceiling, debating. Did he try for an hour's more sleep or just try and get up now? Lord knew he needed as much rest as he could get, but once he was awake there wasn't much he could do to go back sleep short of sleeping tablets.

Jazz decided he'd been through much tougher situations than lack of sleep and swung himself out of bed, slipping on some slippers and padding into the kitchen. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes as he switched the kettle on for a cup of peppermint tea. Something spicy to get him going. He yoinked a mug and the tea from one of cupboards and a small plate along with some loganberry jam from another. The saboteur threw a couple pieces of bread into the toaster and sat down to wait for them both to finish.

The kettle boiled first, and the toast popped up as he poured the scalding liquid into his mug. Jasper let the tea brew for a little while as he spread a generous portion of jam onto the toast, and then he heroically rescued his drowning teabag with a flourish no one else was around to see. He sat down and slouched back with a somewhat satisfied-sounding sigh, and then began to eat.

* * *

There were several free spaces in the car-park this time, much to Jazz's disappointment. He liked stealing spaces from other cars. He sauntered inside, told the secretary as he passed that Ryan Chester was waiting to see him and disappeared down the corridor to the man's office before the receptionist could tell him not to or to wait. Jazz didn't wait for a reply when he knocked, and walked in to find no one was in the lab. There were voices from the office though, and as Jazz moved towards it the office door opened and Ryan stepped out followed by youngish blond girl, obviously pampered and (if Ryan's normal fees and the Prada purse she clutched were anything to go by) pretty rich.

"I'll expect you back next week, Jade. If I even suspect you've been using that ankle when you weren't supposed to I will sedate you and keep you here until it is all healed." Ryan waved a threatening pen at the girl, who grinned and nodded, obviously used to the surgeon's attitude. She sent a cheeky smile to Jazz on her way out, and Ryan pursed his lips to one side in annoyance. "I'm not sure who's worse, you or her," he groused when she was out of earshot.

"An' yet yeh love us anyway," snickered Jazz.

"How I do I really don't know," was the wry answer. "Now come on, Wade's ready for us."

"Rai, quick question fer yeh." Ryan grunted to acknowledge Jazz. "How much do I owe yeh fer this? Yeh gimme yer services fer free fer m'visor, not m'random whims undercover. I can pay-"

"No," interrupted the surgeon, straightening and looking Jasper in the eye. "This is on the house."

"But I-"

"Look, Jasper, the way I see it _we_ owe _you_, not the other way around. You have no idea how far you've helped us advance in optical sciences by volunteering for the implant. You knew the surgery could very well kill you because we only had theory work and blueprints and no actual tests."

"That's 'cause I didn't have much t'live fer," returned Jazz a little sourly. "I figgered if I could nothin' else then at least I could help yeh further yer research."

"I don't care. You did it willingly and helped us more than you realize." Ryan picked up a clipboard and motioned out the room, an unsaid order that Jazz followed without question. "Besides, you keep things interesting around here. Without you and the chaos you bring it'd be pretty same-old, same-old." He walked down the hallway to the testing labs, dreadlocked lieutenant trotting beside him.

"I'll take that as a compliment," snorted Jazz. "I do try m'best, y'know."

"And a damn good job of it you do too," Ryan laughed. They reached research lab 2 and the door was opened before the surgeon even raised a hand to knock. Percy gestured them in and Wade's face lit up when he saw them.

"Aha! There's my main idea man!" Wade dragged Jasper over to the testing area, pointing out the poison.

"This was ridiculously quick Wade," said Jazz, eyeing the vaguely brown liquid sat on the lab table. "How d'yeh know yeh've done it?"

"Theories, ideas, schematics, chemical formulas- look, the point is in theory we have the right combination of chemicals to induce your thanatomimesis we just haven't put it into practice. The chemical composition was suprisingly easy to work out. Percy did a lot of that, and you know how fast his mind works." Wade picked up a needle and drew up some liquid from a small sealed bottle containing the same colored chemicals as the beaker still on the lab table. He tapped it to bring any air bubbles up to the needle and pressed the plunger until a bit of the serum trickled out the top and he reached his intended dose.

Jazz was dragged back slightly by Percy, but kept his gaze on Wade as the scientist injected it into a small rat. The animal went limp almost immediately after a squeak of protest, and Wade started attaching various sensors to the still form. The breathing slowed and grew shallow enough it was invisible, there was no heartbeat and the muscles relaxed completely. Jazz let out a low whistle.

"An' that's induced? It ain't really dead?"

"No," said Ryan, "it shouldn't be. To any onlooker or instruments, yes. To all intents and purposes it _is_ dead, but watch this." The surgeon pointed at another small sealed tube containing a cloudy white liquid, which Wade reached for. He drew up some the same way he did the poison, using the same volume Jazz noted, and injected the rat once more. Nothing happened for a few seconds, but then the sensor monitoring the heartbeat beeped and began showing strengthening contractions. Its breathing grew in depth and frequency and muscles and feet twitched before it woke up and struggled to get up. Wade helped it gently, grinning as its tail swung round in annoyance, and then looked towards the saboteur.

Jazz smiled and nodded, perfectly satisfied. He didn't know how Percy and Wade had managed to pull it off in one night, but they had and it worked and Jazz couldn't have been happier.

"Well?" asked Percy, scribbling something down on a clipboard.

"It's perfect," said Jazz, rubbing his hands together. "Guys yer amazin'. Thank yeh."

"That was the easy bit," added Percy. "Or, easier, anyway. The problem now is getting the stuff into rounds that look like normal bullets but won't actually go right through whichever poor sap gets in your way. We're working on that right now, something that will disintegrate to leave nothing but at least a dart or needle."

"Don' matter too much what they look like," said Jazz, shaking his head. "They'll b' Foxtrot's private rounds, no one should question 'em."

"You'll need to get the antidote to your victims within six hours," warned Wade, "or they really will die."

"Gotcha. I can do that."

"Here's a few vials of the antidote." Wade pressed seven smallish cylindrical containers into Jazz's hands. "I used barely any on that rat. Each round should have no more than a 50 milliliter dosage. Any higher and it's a poison with immediate and lethal effects, antidote injected or not."

"Alright." Jazz opened the small bag he nearly always had strapped to his leg and slipped the vials into it. He turned around to Percy and flashed the red-head a smooth grin. "Let's get designin', shall we? I got a while yet."

"Do, let's." Percy looked excited at the prospect of bringing the proposed bullet development to life, making Jazz's smile widen. Percy fitted so well into Byron's category of being nothing short of free, another one to add fuel to his protective fire.

He _would_ see this through to the end, no matter what it took.

* * *

**Rae:** The fun really starts next chapter! Whatcha think?


	10. Chapter 10

**Rae:** Holy crap this was a long time updating... I am so sorry guys! I haven't had a lot of inspiration to do anything much after my grandfather died. See, this is why I don't _do_ multi-chaptered stories; I never update them often enough! Towa, this is all your fault for throwing that damn bunny on the train after me. And yes, Thane is rubbing off on Heath. ;)

As it is, you guys get 2 chapters for the price of one, partly as an apology for the wait and partly because this chapter's only like 3000 words long. ._. Enjoy anyway! :D

* * *

Jazz studied the round he had in his hand with satisfaction. He, Wade and Percy had spent the rest of the day and most of the next night debating, drawing, planning, scrapping, prototyping and testing various bullets that could be created for the purpose he needed them for. Eventually they had come up with one round that seemed to work just fine all three times they shot one into a gelatine body substitute and the next three times they shot one into a hung pig they'd bought from a butcher's. The bullet disintegrated immediately after exiting the barrel, leaving only a small needle with a ring around it to stop it actually entering the victim entirely. The ring also contained the poison, which was released when all its momentum was halted upon contact with whatever the needle had hit. The needle had nowhere else to go in terms of forward direction, but the liquid did.

And the liquid... Jazz, for the most part, actually understood what the chemicals were and what each of them did; for example, silver nitrate worked as an antiseptic and anticoagulants stopped the blood thickening and clotting while in suspended animation. But it was the hydrogen sulphide that actually did most of the work. It acted like a substitute for oxygen; its main antagonist, you could say. It was produced naturally in the human body to help regulate metabolic rates, but by increasing the dosage enough it interfered with the oxygen uptake, binding itself to the oxygen receptors instead and slowing the metabolic systems of the body - mostly heart, breathing and brain functions. Core temperature could drop to roughly 48 degrees Fahrenheit and heart rate slowed to less than 10 beats a minute. Essentially, a forced and very deep hibernation state where the body is convinced the cells don't need oxygen and the organs become dormant.

Exposing whoever was hibernating to some form of oxygen or an oxidase would jump-start the metabolic process and bump off the hydrogen sulphide molecules due to sheer number. The H2S would be broken down, heart rate and respiratory systems would kick back into motion and the body's core temperature would rapidly increase back to where it should be, with no lasting side-effects to the neurological or physiological aspects. Dizziness and headache would be expected, but like Percy said: short term stuff. Better than actually being shot by a sniper bullet. Since exposure to an airborne oxygen mixture (normal air had too little to force the body back into a working state) would be too inefficient - breathing masks and tanks were far too obvious to lug around - the oxygen needed was put into a liquid form and could be hidden in a little pouch or pockets without raising suspicion.

Perfect ploy, really.

That fun bit over, however, all three of them were now creating as many of the rounds as they could, in sizes that fit both his handgun and his sniper rifle. Jasper would've been complaining he was bored stiff, could they do something else for a while by this point, if he wasn't acutely conscious this was all for his benefit and didn't have that new-found determination.

He rolled the round in his palm, admiring it for a second, before making a start on his next rifle bullet. Hopefully with these and his antidote no one else would die on his watch. Jazz absently made a mental note to divide the vials up into the 50 millilitre dosages it would take to counter his death-imitation-inducing bullets so they'd be ready and handy.

_-x-_

Adam shifted the reading glasses sitting neatly on his nose and lifted a mug containing a strong black coffee to take a sip of it, eyes never straying from scanning the article he had up on his monitor. He'd been looking up any files anyone had on the names Jazz mentioned to him to see what he could dig up about them. The answer was, not much. At the most he'd discovered that the three men making up Morgan's lead trine were of very similar heights, builds, fitness levels and general structure, so much so they could be long-lost brothers or something. Their whereabouts were currently unknown; they had all previously been in Michigan State police custody together for drunken disorderly, first degree assault and suspected homicide, but had managed to escape by the next morning. He also found out that Rumble and Frenzy had been arrested once on a DUI, but the car they were travelling back to the station in had mysteriously blown up. Both officers died and the twins just vanished.

The detective sighed, one cheek coming to rest in his palm while his other hand closed the file and searched for another one. He didn't bother with Morgan's, he knew what it contained almost by heart he'd read it that many times trying to find flaws in the bastard he could exploit. Shiv Corey had nothing to him except a Michigan driver's license; his record was spotless. If it wasn't for the license he might as well not exist at all. The same could be said for Morgan's apparent information specialist, if Jazz had actually got a last name out of the man. There were more than 8000 entries alone for the name 'Samuel', and over twice that for 'Sam', and that was just Michigan State; there was no way of knowing if Samuel was even from Michigan. For all they knew he and his brothers were from somewhere in Florida, or even out-of-country Russia. Adam clicked his teeth and growled in frustration, pulling his coffee towards him once more and draining a good portion of it. This was going to be another all-nighter with nothing to show for it, he just knew it.

_-x-_

Byron sauntered down the hallway bopping and humming along to the tune of Roxette's 'The Look' pouring from the earbuds of his MP3 player, turning the corner for the lobby when he spotted a figure leaning against the doorway of one of the tech labs. He paused, and then moved quietly up the olive-haired man apparently observing an oblivious Adam, removing one of his earphones. He didn't say anything and neither did Heath for some time, until finally the scout shifted and nodded in the detective's direction.

"I know him."

"I'd be worried if ya didn't know Prowl, man. Where you been the past few years?" prodded Byron, and Heath shot him an amusedly exasperated look.

"Not Prowl you aft. The one on the screen."

Byron peered in and found Adam scrutinizing the profile of a black-haired man with blue highlights streaking through it. A trendy look, Byron decided. Flashy, but decent. He liked it. He could just make out the name 'Mitchell' across the bottom of his mugshot, but the first name was lost to him. A hand on his arm made him look back at Heath, and he started at the rather pain-filled expression of the olive-haired man. "Heath? Man, what's wrong?"

"Thane's... not a bad guy. He doesn't want it, any of it." Heath crossed his arms over his stomach, glancing back at the screen, an uncertain gesture that generally meant someone was talking about or going to do something they really shouldn't and knew it. "He's just trying to find a way out, I know it."

"Maybe Jazz can give that to him." Byron shook his head and wrapped an arm around Heath's shoulders, guiding the scout away from the tech lab back to the lobby. "Look, ya can't get a hold of Jazz to tell him anythin' without riskin' his cover, but if Thane is only trying to find a way out then our boy may have an unexpected ally." Something about Heath's general aura made Byron suddenly click and put two and two together. "Ya didn't know he was part of Morgan's crew." It wasn't a question.

"No. Not until just now."

"Wow... geez man, I'm sorry." He squeezed the arm still slung over Heath's shoulders in reassurance. "Are you...?"

"I'm fine." A disbelieving look from the red-head, and the scout sighed. "I'll be fine. It's just a little disconcerting to find out a good friend of yours is in league with the man you've been trying to take down for as long as you've been on the force."

"I'll bet," was the quiet answer. "How about a drink tonight, then? My house. Might help in decidin' what you wanna do."

"I don't want to lose him," replied Heath adamantly, "but I'm afraid if I confront him about it I'll blow Jazz's cover wide open, and that won't be a good thing."

"Drinks it is, then," declared the red-haired comms officer, and he grabbed Heath's arm and dragged him back to the garage to Byron's car to weakly laughing protests by the scout, which were steadfastly ignored. They bundled into the Suzuki - or rather, Heath was shoved into shotgun unexpectedly and fell onto the seat flailing and Byron cackled at him as he slid smoothly into the driver's side - and set off back to Byron's flat.

_-x-_

The sound of Jazz's exceptionally loud ringtone - the Transformers Theme by Black Lab, causing an uncharacteristic giggle from Percy - made all four men jump, the silent trance-like reverie of their workspace shattered. Ryan glared at him, and Jazz shrugged apologetically before flipping it open without looking at the caller ID, stopping the surprisingly good-quality ringtone quite abruptly.

"Talk t' meh."

'_Jazz? Where are you?_'

A smile instantly lit up the saboteur's face, and his body relaxed as the worried, dulcet tones of his partner sounded through the tinny earpiece. "Prowler! Good t'hear yer voice man, yeh dunno how much I've missed it." He threw an amused glance at Wade when the scientist faked a gagging motion, flipping the bird briefly at him before drawing his attention back to the man waiting on the other end of the phone. "'M at th'labs. Me 'n th'guys have been workin' on th'ammunition fer m'guns."

'_They... are incredibly quick. Done in what, two, three days? That's nigh on statistically possible, and yet somehow..._'

"So was gettin' m'sight back, Prowler, 'n yet they managed that perfectly. I have four different kinds o' vision now, y'know."

'_Stop teasing._' A pause. '_Miles, just how _long_ have you been in that lab?_'

"...'Bout 36 hours, give or take a couple. Why?"

There was a noise of annoyed exasperation on the other end. '_You're incorrigible! I'll be there in ten to pick you up. No arguments._' The phone clicked and the dial tone filled Jazz's ear as Adam hung up, and he laughed sheepishly, flipping his phone closed. He slid out of his chair, tossing a pair of clamps at Ryan as the surgeon snapped off a remark about being whipped. He ducked the wrench that came flying back, and when he looked back round he saw that Ryan's expression made it clear he would happily turn the moment into a tool-tossing competition, and enjoy it. 'And probably win by three-way K.O.' snickered Jazz to himself. He waved a hand in surrender; there was no way he was taking on a medic on his own turf.

Wade packed up the bullets they'd made so far into a small black case for him to take with him, and a smaller silver one pushed into Jazz's hands carried the vials of antidote. The saboteur helped himself to a syringe pump to measure out the dosages and hugged his three friends, thanking them heartily, if a bit loopily, for their help. Ryan shooed him out with the comment that he kept things interesting but to next time make the challenge harder, to several squawks of protest by Wade and Percy before the door closed. Jazz couldn't help the laughter that escaped him, and he was still laughing by the time he reached the lobby. He calmed down slightly after a couple minutes, and waited restlessly for Adam to arrive.

As soon as the detective entered the lobby doors Jazz hurried over to his partner and leapt on him with a hug, briefcases and all. It was a good thing the brunette was anticipating something of the sort otherwise they both would've fallen to the floor in an ungraceful heap. As it was Adam braced a foot back and let out an 'oof' as the saboteur collided with him. He embraced Jazz back as best he could until the lieutenant let go and scrambled down with a huge grin.

"Yeh have no idea how glad I am t'see yeh."

"I couldn't tell, you insane person," remarked Adam, sighing as Jazz's grin grew. "I'll bring you back to get your car after we've put something in that empty tank you call a stomach." The brunette lead the way back out the labs to his Datsun, getting more and more amused by how jittery and restless Jazz was. He literally bounced the entire way to the car, hands jerking around as though they didn't quite know what to do. Jasper sensed this and mock-glared at his partner.

"Yeh try spendin' over 24 hours with Wade 'n Perce 'n come outta it without bein' antsy 'n unscathed," he needled. Adam raised a hand in a surrendering gesture but sniggered when Jazz attempted to open his door, found it was still locked and poked at it impatiently until the relenting click of Adam's keyfob released the electronic catch. Jazz was in and seat belted before Adam could even start to open his door, and the detective just shook his head as he climbed in. This was going to be an interesting lunch date.

"So, what do you fancy?"

"Y'mean besides yeh?" smirked Jazz, poking his partner. Adam sent him a vexed but amused look as he backed out of the parking bay and gunned for the exit.

"Yes you hyperactive monkey, besides me. What do you want to eat?"

"Chinese. Or Mexican. Don' mind which."

"To El Pasada, then."

"Solid." Jazz leaned back in his seat and contented himself with looking out the window and trying to curb his restlessness, something he wasn't exceptionally amazing at but it was kept to a level where it would annoy Adam as little as possible. The drive to El Pasada was passed in relative silence, but it was a comfortable one. Neither of them found they needed to say anything so they didn't.

When they finally arrived at El Pasada Jazz shot out of the car like a bullet and was halfway to the restaurant doors when Adam stepped out of the driver's side. He raised an eyebrow coolly but was thoroughly entertained by the saboteur's antics, even if he wasn't showing it. Jazz was waiting for him impatiently at the doors so they could get a table together and Adam touched his hand when he reached him to try and calm him a little.

It seemed to work, if only slightly, and apparently even more when Jazz's hand slipped into his surreptitiously under the table they were led to and seated at by a chipper waiter. Adam squeezed it gently, and Jazz sent him a grateful smile, and then it struck Adam that he might actually be _nervous._ He now had everything he needed to infiltrate Morgan's gang and he only awaited the when and the where of the test. He didn't break the contact even as their waiter came over to take their orders, and when he left with the menus Adam reached over with his other hand and placed a finger under Jazz's chin, tipping it up so the saboteur's gaze locked with his. He smiled softly.

"It'll be alright, Jazz, you'll see. No one can touch you, not if you don't want them to. I know you're nervous and frankly so am I, but we'll get through it."

Jaz let out a gasp of air in a breathy laugh. "Why is it yeh always seem t'know what's going' on inside m'head, Prowl? It's scary, man."

"Because I know you," Adam replied, releasing his partner's chin with a chuckle. "I can recognize signs even if you can't." A pause. "Let me be there for you Jazz. You know you can't take this on alone, and I'm your partner. It's what partners do."

"Says th'man who didn't want a partner in th'first place," shot back Jazz, but it held no weight. He interlaced the fingers of their grasped hands under the table. "Prowl, gettin' yerself involved with this right now could put yeh in th'line o' fire, 'n that's th'last thing I want. Supportin' meh could jus' getcha killed." He held Adam's gaze steadily, searching. "I care 'bout yeh far too much t' let yeh get hurt."

"I won't," said Adam, though whether he was reassuring the dreadlocked man or himself he wasn't sure. "I promise." A cheeky glint flared in his eyes briefly, reflected in the smile he shot happily at Jazz. "I'm afraid you can't get rid of me that easily, Miles."

"Oh really? Is that a challenge I hear, Detective McCallen?" grinned Jazz, reaching over and running his fingertips gently down Adam's face.

"Maybe," was the sly answer, and Jazz's grin widened as Adam caught the hand tracing his face and kissed it softly. "And maybe not."

"Oh yer good," crooned the lieutenant, dragging out the 'good' delightedly.

"Oh I know."

_-x-_

Ryan ran a finger across his schedule to check when and who his next appointment was. Kelly Sandoval, tomorrow morning at nine. He pursed his lips briefly and glanced at the door, debating whether to go talk to Wade or not, but decided against it; the inventor was probably busy pouring over those blueprints he'd snaffled up right after Jazz left or something. Maybe with Percy. He huffed and went to his computer terminal instead, intending to do some more reports and file some of the crap he had laying around, but was interrupted by a comm buzz from the reception area.

He didn't have anyone coming to see him. Did he? He quelled a nervous surge that he'd forgotten to note a patron's appointment down and accepted the call.

"What?"

'_Doctor Chester, there are two boys-_' he heard some vocal protests in the background in voices he vaguely recognized; they were too faint to make out, '-_who say they're friends of yours and want to see you. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, apparently. Should I-?'_

Ryan started and stared bemused at the handset. The twins? What were they doing here, and why on earth were they using _those_ nicknames? "No Tracy, send them in," he interrupted her. "They know where I am."

_'Yes Doctor._' The receptionist's voice sounded extremely dubious, no doubt thinking the boys were a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but he didn't care; she didn't need to know how or why he knew them. He began clearing off his desk a bit and filing a couple papers and folders away before there was a sharp rap at the door and it opened before he could say 'come in'. He turned with a raised eyebrow to face the two 21-year-olds scuttling through the doorway, partly at the fact they didn't wait to be let in and partly in silent question as to what they were doing here.

"Hey Rai," said Sidam, raising a hand and waggling his fingers a little sheepishly. Sunny nodded to him amiably but didn't say anything, just helped himself to a chair and let his brother take over.

"What are you doing here? This is hardly what I call being in hiding," the surgeon said a little perplexedly. "If you're seen-"

"Oh give us more credit than that, Rai," chipped in Sunny a touch sourly. "We're better at what we do than you think."

Ryan shook his head. "No, I know how good you are. If you weren't that good you wouldn't've survived the injuries I had to patch up on you both when Jazz first brought you here." He paused, and then a small, sad smile touched his lips. "Can't I be concerned for you two?"

"We're touched," said Sidam dryly, but a roughened hand was placed on Ryan's forearm to let him know they were grateful for the worry even if they thought it was unnecessary. "Actually, we're here to ask a favor of you. A pretty big favour." The younger twin knew he was courting a touchy side of Ryan - the side that hated owing and taking favours more than almost anything - but they needed this and thus he didn't really care.

Ryan met pleading pale blue eyes for several seconds and then closed his own, pinching the bridge of his nose and expelling a lungful of air quite forcefully. "Alright. What?"

"We need somewhere to crash, somewhere Morgan won't think to look for us. We've been switching hotels and bunks every night because Shiv has managed to track us somehow and sent in the cavalry. We've stayed a step ahead of him until now, but to be frank it's tiring and we just want to settle down and get off this hectic runaway train we managed to board stupidly without buying a return ticket."

"And what makes you think he won't find you with me?" challenged Ryan, crossing his arms and setting his face to his 'I'm waiting!' glare.

"Because you're one of the most respected doctors and surgeons in the country with no findable connections to the underworld whatsoever. The only ones who know we know you are Percy, Wade and Jazz, and I'll be damned if they spill. None of the racket are going to suspect you of starting now, not when it could ruin your respected standing and distinction in the medical community."

"What Jazz knows his partner will too," added Sunny quickly, "but I don't think he'll tell either."

"No," agreed Ryan, "Adam's too straight and narrow for that."

"It also helps that a lot of the underworld have heard of you and your rep and are actually scared of you." Sidam couldn't help the cackle that escaped him as Ryan's face turned briefly murderous.

"My 'rep', Sides?"

"Yup. You and those hyposprays, experimentations, explosions and your throwing arm are damn scary!"

The surgeon lifted a rather hefty scalpel and waved it in the younger twin's face threateningly. "Would you like to test that last one, you slagging son of a glitch?" he growled, pleased to see Sidam flinch and back up a little with a gulp.

"No, I think I'm good thanks." He continued to eye the scalpel warily even after the medic set it down. "Geez, that last one was a joke. Rai, you _need_ to lighten up."

Ryan fought the urge to facepalm and squared his shoulders, looking each twin in the eyes. "Alright, fine. You're with me. But," he added as Sidam hissed 'yes' and Sunny's visage brightened, "you're going to follow _my_ rules in _my_ house and _none_ of my house-calling patients are to see you. You will come with me here to the labs because I don't trust you to go wandering off out the house if I leave you at home, and I don't need anyone here seeing you either and risk telling the wrong person. Wade and Percy are to be your only other interactees, alongside Jazz and Adam when they are here." He glowered at them, darkened eyes boring into theirs. "Am. I. Clear?"

Sidam shivered slightly but nodded furiously, and then subtly signed to his twin in the language they had made up years ago, 'You'd better be right about Jazz, and he'd better do it fast.'

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**Rae:** My Sunny muse demanded some screen-time, which in turn caused Sides to do so as well, which in turn caused Ratchet to step out, throw a wrench at all three of us and screech at us to 'shut the frag up already'. And I was already planning on Heath having a scene in this, those three just decided to barge in anyway xDD

Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes the science behind the bullets is real and perfectly possible theoretically. It's never been forced or induced in a human being before, but it has occured a few times naturally :D


	11. Chapter 11

**Rae:** In which much butt is kicked thanks to Jazz. (cackles) My beta said it reminded her of Jazz taking down Springer in AHM; I'm inclined to agree seeing as that was where I got the inspiration from ;)

Thanks for the go-over, love, on both of these chapters! And all before you had to go out; aren't you just the best? (huggles happily) Enjoy everyone! x

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Jazz peered down the barrel of his rifle, squinting and frowning slightly before pushing the greased cloth gently back through it. He twisted it and brought it out again, nodding in satisfaction before placing it back down on his coffee table. He was about to pick up the screwdriver to disassemble and clean out the gas tube when his burn phone started dancing across the table on vibrate, belting out one of the default ringtones it came with. It was the best one he could find in the options; he wasn't going to bother downloading a ringtone onto a phone he was just going to throw away.

"Yeh've reached Foxtrot," he greeted, putting speakerphone on and placing it onto the table. He snatched up what he'd been reaching for before.

_'Tonight,'_ was the reply. _'You're up tonight.'_

"Nice t'hear from yeh too Frenzy," commented Jazz dryly, twisting the screwdriver to detach the gas tube for cleaning. "Alright, what's th'job 'n when?"

_'23:00. We've got a shipment due in, but the only dock we can port in is too heavily guarded to collect it. We need you to take out the security detail.'_ Frenzy ignored the sarcasm. _'You get us in and out without alerting anyone and we'll talk about your initiation.'_

"Yer boss wants me 'n he knows it." Jazz blew lightly on the gas tube and picked up the bristle brush. "Y'know, Foxtrot likes t'be noticed. It'll b' really temptin' t'set off th'alarms right b'fore we leave. I want th'police t'know who they're dealin' with, who's back in town after a loooong vacation."

Frenzy snorted. _'And what makes you think the police will know it was you?'_

"Oh, they'll know." The dreadlocked man grinned even though the twin couldn't see it. "Where?"

A pause. _'West Side Industrial, dock twelve. Don't be late, Foxtrot.'_

"As if. I'm lookin' forward t' this." He hung up before Frenzy could say anything more and sank back, exhaling a lungful of air slowly. So soon? He hadn't expected the test for another week at least. He glanced at the bullets lined neatly up next to a magazine clip and chuckled. It was a damn good thing Wade and Percy knew what they were doing so damn well. Any further delay wouldn't have made the needle-rounds possible.

_-x-_

Jasper rang Adam's doorbell and checked his watch. Less than two hours. He brightened when he heard the latches being undone and a key being turned in a lock a few seconds later, and then the startled face of his partner peered through the crack. The sturdy door opened wider and Adam gestured the saboteur in.

"Jazz, what are you doing here?"

"Passin' these on." Jasper placed a small paper bag on the countertop in the kitchen. "Tonight at eleven o'clock, West Side Industrial, dock twelve. I've been told t'take out th'security 'n if I don' get t'th'guards afterwards I'm leavin' a batch with yeh. I'll send yeh a buzz or sommat when 'm done, so yeh'll know whether t'go or not."

"Are you sure?" Adam looked surprised, and then worried. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," shrugged the dreadlocked man. "I jus' know I can count on yeh if I can't get t' 'em."

"Of course." Adam slipped around the side of the counter to stand in front of his partner, clasping his shoulders gently. "You've got just over an hour and a half, so you'd better get going, but Jazz..." He trailed fingertips down one arm and then rested them on one cheek, searching unseeing gold eyes. "Please be careful."

"Always, Prowler." Jazz leaned up and kissed the brunette in front of him, chaste, tentative, but solid, and then left swiftly with one last wave. He shut the door behind him, listened to the 'ka-thunks' as Adam slid the bolts back into place and dashed down the stairs to the car park. He hopped into his Porsche, making sure he'd stripped the plates and put the falsies on first, and then headed over to the dock. He had a post to man and a murder spree to go on.

_-x-_

_10:57._

Rumble glared at his watch and looked around him for what must've been the hundred-and-fiftieth time. He saw Frenzy helping Samuel unload the boxes they were using as the ruse in case anyone was watching, Thane and Spencer were scouting around the ship in dock worker uniforms pretending inventory check, Warren was flitting around with supplies and Rumble himself was on look-out. Foxtrot, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Rumble briefly wondered if Foxtrot had backed out at the last minute, got cold feet, and then he reminded himself that this was the same gang-banger who went on a slaughtering rampage in LA. For years. As a kid. In nothing more than the name of _fun_. He wasn't afraid of anything.

He glanced back down at his wrist. _10:58._ Foxtrot would be late if he didn't hurry that damn sexy ass of his up. A slight pang hit Rumble as he remembered what the dreadlocked man had said to him last time they met. He knew he had been pushing his luck, but he'd thought that maybe, just maybe, Foxtrot would agree.

As if.

Foxtrot was right, he should have known better. The gang-banger was paranoid, violent and extremely cautious; he wouldn't've known whether Rumble would try to kill him afterwards or if he really was interested in just sex. There was no way to tell and no way Foxtrot would take that chance. Rumble made a face at the realization he could have thought things through just a little more than simply attempting to satisfy his libido. He was lucky a sharp reprimand was all he got instead of a throwing knife to the neck or something.

_10:59._

Thane was looking annoyed at something, and for once it didn't seem to be Spencer who was stood next to him complaining loudly about newbies. Rumble guessed it was the apparently absent Foxtrot's fault. Warren looked nothing short of nervous, but then he seemed to be on every task he and his trine were set. Frenzy and Samuel ignored everyone else, concentrating on their cover. Thane's ruby eyes narrowed as he scanned the area, and even Spencer wound down the bitching as Rumble's watch beeped _11:00_ quietly at him.

It was then that a tiny 'whoosh' and small tinkle of glass sounded from nearby, and everyone started and looked around for the source. Thane spotted it first; the controller in the tower sitting next to their dock which regulated importation, exportation and searches was slumped over the control panel. Another couple of swift quiet swooshes and the patrol who were manning the dock with their supposed fellows (being Thane and Spencer, both with hair either dyed or under a wig; Jazz wasn't sure which) were downed. Three gate guards fell after that, then a scouting unit, four beat cops and an inventory inspector who was unlucky enough to be just entering dock twelve.

"What on earth..." Spencer stared at the felled security in astonishment and then carefully moved up to a body. He prodded it gingerly with a foot and leapt back, expecting a hoax, but nothing happened. He poked it again, and then kicked it. Nada. He raised an eyebrow and knelt down to feel the pulse at the neck. Mahogany eyes widened and he turned around with an exclamation of, "He's dead!"

"'Course he is yeh idiot." A voice behind them had everyone turning around to see Foxtrot sauntering in with an annoyed expression, hoisting a sniper rifle over one shoulder and a small duffel bag up the other. "I ain't that bad o' a shot. Gimme some credit yeh half-wit."

"What are these?" asked Frenzy, looking up from examining another body and lifting a dart between his fingertips.

"Mah own ammo," said Jazz, walking over and plucking it out of Frenzy's hand. "Poison dart-bullets; instantly fatal, self-made 'n untraceable. Makes murder a lot easier. It ain't a common type o' poison either, nearly impossible t'pick up in tox-screens unless y'know what t'look fer." He smirked at Samuel, who gazed unwaveringly back. "Yeh thought I wasn't comin', right? Wrong." He moved towards Rumble with that same self-satisfied grin then, closer and closer until there wasn't even room for a pinkie finger to get between the two of them. He placed a knuckle gently under Rumble's chin, golden eyes catching the mahogany ones, and his smirk widened. "Wouldn't miss it fer th'world," he whispered, accentuating each word with slightly exaggerated movements of his lips. Rumble felt himself flush, heating up from Foxtrot's proximity and the way those lips moved when speaking.

Jasper let out a giggle at that point, tinged a little with a giddy insanity that didn't make him sound at all stable, and pushed Rumble away from him hard enough it drove the younger man back several feet. He turned and sprinted off to the control tower and loped up the steps three at a time until he reached the booth. He pushed the body off the console and searched it, nicking off with the radio he found and relieving him of a keycard. He twirled the card around his fingers a couple times to show off and swiped it into the reader to open the gates unalarmed, only to growl as the console asked for a verification password. He backed out of the swipe register and cracked his knuckles. Hacking time.

He pulled one of the panels off the workstation, revealing the electronics and circuitry behind it, and ran his fingers along one of the boards until he found the port he was looking for with a satisfied noise. Jazz pulled out a small device from the duffel bag and a cable, attaching one end to a tiny socket in the PDA look-alike and the other into the port on the circuitry panel. A few taps on the device and a minute later granted him access to the system, where he set himself up an account as an administrator and overrode the lock controls and commands. He kept the PDA attached to the system as he swiped the keycard through the scanner again. The console didn't bother asking him for a password this time, and he opened the gates and shut down the security cameras for dock 12 without any more problems. Really, Jazz thought in slight contempt, if they were going to make a dock security system at least make sure it's actually _secure_. The entire hack took him just under five minutes, so either he was just _that_ slagging good or the system was _that_ slagging bad.

He popped up from his crouched position and gave Morgan's crew a thumbs-up to signal it was okay. Thane nodded almost imperceptibly and barked something to the others, and Frenzy started waving to someone Jazz couldn't see. A minute later revealed a small truck with no license plates backing into the loading zone through the gate and Naomi was driving it. He watched as they began the unloading off the ship and loading into the truck with a swiftness and efficiency that showed Jazz they had been at this game a long time.

It took less than 15 minutes for the shipment to be loaded up and the truck to speed off to wherever it needed to. Impressive work. Jazz was just about to back himself out of the system, delete the account and wipe any trace of himself when the radio crackled to life and a voice spoke over in a concerned tone.

'_David? David man, you there?_'

Thank God Jazz had retained enough of his paranoid self to _really_ scout out the area earlier and familiarize himself with both the environment and the people. He knew what David sounded like and where the accent was from, and thus a talent he was quite proud of came into play very handily. "David here," came the broad Welsh back.

'_Dude, what's going on? The gate's registering as open. Why's the gate open?_'

"James forgot somethin', but rather 'n park an' walk again he just drove straight here. Let him in through the gates." Jazz sighed like he was tired and a bit antsy from being on duty for so long. "Nothin' for you to get your panties in a bunch about. If there was a problem I'd've radioed you about it."

'_...Alright, but tell Jim not to do that again.'_

"Can do, David out." Jazz cut the speaking button and coughed a few times; as handy as vocal imitations were they did put strain on his own voice. He shook his head and commanded the gates closed once more, erased the last few minutes of camera footage and turned them back on, then set about planting a small harmless virus into the system before backing out and cleansing any signs he'd ever had access. It took him all of seven minutes to do it. Hacking something was actually easier than getting out of a system without leaving a trace, but he was fast by any hacker's standards.

The PDA device disconnected easily, and he stuffed it into his duffel bag before setting to work disassembling his rifle. It slid into the bag as well, fitting perfectly, and he bounded down the steps back to the others who were waiting rather impatiently.

"What the fuck were you doing up there, napping?" sniped Spencer, assuming a very 'drama queen' position. Jazz just stared coolly back and canted his head, dreadlocks spilling off to one side.

"It takes time t' back out o' a hacked system without leavin' somethin' traceable b'hind. Every _competant_ criminal knows that," shot the saboteur back sharply. "B'sides, yeh should b' thankin' meh fer takin' the heat fer ya."

"What do you mean?" asked Thane curiously, glancing at Samuel as he too requested clarification.

"I planted a small virus in their system," Jazz said idly. "Claimin' that Foxtrot's back. Hey Detroit PD, guess who's over from LA and wantin' t' play?" He picked up one of the darts for emphasis and grinned. "Foxtrot may've been flashy, but even they know I know when t' do discretion."

"And what if they think it's a hoax?" demanded Spencer, not to be outdone.

"They won't." Jazz glanced back at the booth with a decidedly wicked smirk. "Trust meh. They know m'callin' card."

"Alright, let's get out of here." Thane interrupted whatever Spencer what about to bitch at next, forcefully and in obvious annoyance. "We've lingered too long as it is. Move it."

_-x-_

Jazz didn't move as Spencer snapped a pair of cuffs on his wrists, hands behind his back, and refused to flinch even as the metal bit into his skin from being pulled too tight. A flash of what happened last time he was in handcuffs made him smile briefly; now _that_ had been an arrest and a half. Spencer made a disappointed noise that Foxtrot didn't react, and shoved at the lieutenant roughly to start walking. Thane marched silently next to them both, and Samuel flanked the other side. An odd little procession to be sure, but it amused Jazz.

"So th'boss man wants t' see meh fer real, huh?"

"You should be honored to meet him face to face," snapped Spencer, twisting his grip on the cuffs slightly.

"Oh, y'mean like yeh are?" He barked a harsh laugh as Spencer snarled and really twisted the cuff chain round. Jazz felt something warm running down one hand, so he'd obviously been cut, but he didn't care. It was nothing compared to most injuries he got. "I've heard 'bout yeh, White. Y'ain't exactly Russell's number one fan, are yeh? I ain't sure yeh could have any less respect fer him, so don' go talkin' t'meh 'bout it."

Samuel grabbed Spencer's wrist as the commander drew it back to hit Jazz and stopped the motion dead. "Action not recommended," he intoned emotionlessly. "Instruction: cease."

Spencer glared at the officer for several seconds, then wrenched his fist out of Samuel's grip. "Fine," he growled.

They continued for a few more minutes in silence, Jazz taking in every bit of the building he could and committing it to memory, creating a mind-map in his head as detailed as he could make it. He'd need it later, he was sure. They reached an elevator whose doors opened as they approached. Spencer pushed Jazz in first and the others piled in after him. Samuel mechanically pressed the button marked 'P', but instead of going up to the penthouse like Jazz was expecting it began to descend. He shifted slightly, bouncing gently from foot to foot until the elevator stopped smoothly and the doors hissed open.

He barely reigned back a surprised sound as he found himself in what could only be called a throne room. In essence, it was a massive, obviously underground, room with support pillars lining the outside and a huge chair and desk at the back, behind which sat a man with silver hair. He must be about the same age as the Commissioner, thought Jazz. There was an aura of strength around him, and a sharp, sly look in his eyes told Jazz this man could be incredibly great if he had chosen the right side of the law, but then it was that same greatness that kept him away from exactly that. The first tendrils of a grudging respect began to weave through him.

He was thrown unceremoniously forwards, and while Spencer had apparently meant to bring Jazz to his knees the saboteur steadied himself and kept upright, straightening and holding his head up, locking gazes with Morgan while Spencer made an inarticulate noise of rage.

Silence persevered for several minutes as Morgan examined Jazz thoroughly, and then a slow smile that lacked any warmth spread across his face. "Well, well, well. So this is the great Foxtrot."

Jazz never moved. "That's meh."

A snort. "Good. Modesty is wasted here, you will have no use for it."

"Modesty?" Jasper raised an eyebrow and shifted his weight onto one hip, adopting a sort of 'bitch, please' kind of pose. "I'm th'best there is dammit. Modesty is fer th'weak. If yer strong, flaunt it. I think I proved that back in LA, didn't I?" His lips curled up in a sneer. "Yer 'test' was ridiculously easy. No wind made sniperin' a breeze, so t' speak, the security system was nothin' short o' pathetic 'n if I hadn't taken out th' extra patrols they'd had stationed that yer men hadn't anticipated yeh all woulda been caught red-handed 'n carted off t'th'pen." He snorted disdainfully. "Foxtrot's takin' all th'credit fer this one, like it or not."

"Extra patrols?" Morgan glared at Thane, who stared back unwaveringly.

"They were impromptu and unscheduled my Lord, or I would have known about them."

"Everyone knows yeh need t' scout out th'area b'fore pullin' a heist," growled Jazz, golden eyes narrowing. "Yeh obviously hadn't, or if yeh had y'didn't do it thoroughly enough." Foxtrot's influence swirled gently into his consciousness, and Jazz had to forcefully quell a violent urge to attack Thane and show him who really was superior in this room. He realized he was going to have to do this a lot more while he was undercover. He could pushed Foxtrot back, keep him at bay in the deepest recesses of his mind, but the bloodthirstiness and violent tendencies would always be there. His eyes squeezed shut briefly to stop a tear from escaping.

Thane was about to retort when Morgan raised a hand. "Enough," he barked, and the assault specialist backed down respectfully. Morgan rose to his feet and pointed at Jazz. "Prove it to me now, then. Show me that what you pulled off tonight wasn't a trick of some kind."

Jazz's golden eyes flashed with something Morgan couldn't identify, and the smirk that twisted his lips while his shoulders rose and fell in a nonchalant shrug was pretty damn sadistic. "Alright, if th'boss man insists."

The lieutenant cracked his neck quickly to one side and slid open the cuffs he'd picked pretty much straight after Spencer had let go of them in the corridor upstairs. He turned around and leapt towards the commander before any of them had actually registered what had just happened. Jazz caught the commander and downed him with a simple toss over his right shoulder. From there he set one leg over Spencer's throat, another across his abdomen and clasped one arm to his own chest in such a way that if Spencer attempted to move it would most likely fracture. Spencer's gun was retrieved from its holster with Jazz's other free hand and aimed at the man's head, and everyone who had been making for the saboteur stopped abruptly in their tracks.

"Now," said Jazz blithely, "I realize Spencer ain't exactly th'most diplomatic o' all o' yeh, but from what I gather he's one o'th'strongest fighters in this room. Am I wrong?" He received no reply to state otherwise, to which he let a satisfied look settle on his features. "One quick twist 'n his arm is broken." He tightened his hold just to make a point, and Spencer cried out in pain angrily. "Yeh don' ever mess with Foxtrot if ya wanna live, and yeh certainly don' underestimate meh." He let Spencer squirm for another few seconds before releasing him and rolling backwards gracefully onto his feet.

Spencer, as soon as he was free, launched himself at Foxtrot with murder in his eyes, but Jazz side-stepped the attack and dodged or countered every move the commander made. The African-American grabbed an arm as it sailed past him in a failed attempt to slice him with an Army knife, brought it round and dug a heel into the back of the other man's neck, bringing him instantly to his knees, forcing him to drop the blade and render him unable to move once again. "Jus' give it up," said Jazz simply. "Yeh ain't gonna beat meh, not outta blind anger like that."

Jazz's statement along with Morgan's order to cease fighting immediately had Spencer sullenly submitting to his loss and resisting the want to try again when the dreadlocked man released him. He settled for a feral growl and stalked out the room without waiting for a dismissal, and Morgan watched him go in ill-disguised amusement.

"So." Morgan sat down and gave Jazz another once-over. "You've certainly got the stuff to be here."

"I'm sensin' a 'but' comin'," remarked Jazz dryly.

"Indeed. 'But' I need to know if you're willing to serve me. You will follow my orders and my rules without question, understood?"

Foxtrot made a contemptuous noise before Jazz could stop it. "I ain't promisin' anythin', I'm too independant t'be tied down t' anyone fer too long. But with enough freedom on my part yeh'll have m'services fer as long as yeh want 'em. That's th'best I can offer."

"Then it's what I'll have to live with." Morgan stood up once more and moved down to Jazz, extending his hand which Jazz took and shook firmly. "Welcome aboard, Foxtrot. I'm expecting great things from you."

"Now _that_ I can guarantee."

_-x-_

Jazz waited until both Samuel and Thane had disappeared and he no longer had an escort to find the only blind spot in the cameras on the upper floor he was led in on and pull out his normal phone. He sent a quick text to Adam that read '_Antidote, 17 doses. You know where. Be careful and keep them hidden._' and flipped his phone closed, sliding it back into the pocket just inside his jeans waistband. He was glad he thought about giving Adam that bag of oxidase phials. Trusting that Adam wouldn't send him a reply back, he started then on a hunt for his bag which had been taken off him before they got to Morgan's place, deciding to explore a bit more while he did so and gain some extra info for his mind-map.

Room after room was explored (and sometimes broken into. With finesse and stealth, obviously. Man, he hoped no one would kill him for taking that door off its hinges...), each adding to his mind map but yielding no bag. They were mostly office rooms, conference rooms, computer labs, toilets and the occasional break room, the usual you'd expect in a building like this. Typical multi-storied construct.

Speaking of which...

The next room he barged into - another meeting one, it turned out - he made a beeline straight for the window and pulled back the curtains. He whistled softly in appreciation of the view that greeted him. He'd never seen Detroit from this high up before, and he had to admit she was stunning. From a good forty stories up she was spread out in front of him like a particularly tempting lover, all curvaceous structure and straight streets, softly lit and gleaming gently in the darkness now well-settled over her. He chuckled as Snow Patrol's 'Take Back the City' rolled briefly through his mind, and he bopped his head to its inaudible beat as he studied the view trying to spot landmarks and things that might help him determine exactly where Morgan's base of operations was.

In the end he gave up; he'd try tomorrow, it was too dark right now. He felt the first waves of sleepiness wash over him, and he suppressed a yawn as he slunk out the room. He was taken by surprise when his bag was suddenly dangling in front of his face, and he knocked it out the way and assumed a defensive stance instinctively. A nervous laugh reached his ears, and Rumble stepped into view.

"Sorry man, never meant to scare you."

Jazz snatched his bag up, checking inside to make sure everything was still there, and glared at Rumble. "B' glad I wasn't in a mood," snapped the lieutenant. "I coulda taken yer head off. What are yeh, crazy?"

"Others have said as much." Rumble shrugged slightly. "Shiv's a bit pissed off with you, because he couldn't get past the encryption program on that PDA thingy of yours."

Jazz snorted derisively. "O' course he can't, I programmed it mehself. Adaptive 'n viral if yer not careful. Someone like him could spend th'rest o' his life tryin' and never get past th'first level."

"Clever, aren't you?"

"Paranoid 'n delusional more like," the dreadlocked man countered, moving off to the elevator so he could get out, take his ride and go home. Apparently his Porsche had been brought back with them for a thorough searching, and nothing had been found much to Jazz's amusement. Rumble fell into step beside him.

"Listen, Foxtrot, about last time... I'm sorry, alright? I wasn't thinking. You had... have no reason to trust me not to kill you in your sleep and I should've realized that before asking anything."

"So yeh do have a brain in all that thick paddin' yeh call a head," retorted Jazz scathingly, Foxtrot was well and truly annoyed now and showing it.

Rumble winced slightly, faltering in his steps. "I'm sorry, alright?"

They reached the elevator and Jazz ignored the blue-haired man as he pressed the call button, and for the several second that passed before it arrived. Just as the doors opened Jazz spoke up once more. "There's somethin' important yeh need t'learn 'bout Foxtrot," he said, stepping into the carriage.

"What's that?" Rumble's expression looked a mixture of hope, fear and anxiety.

"He doesn't do second chances." The smirk Rumble saw right before the doors finished hissing closed was one of pure ice and the promise of some form of mad revenge. He shuddered and backed away from the elevator doors, starting to think that maybe it hadn't been smart to face Foxtrot without his brother's slightly soothing presence.

_-x-_

Adam jumped slightly as his phone let him know he had a text message. He opened the message to find it was from Jazz, telling him that he had to get the antidote to the workers at the dock and keep them hidden. Presumably so Morgan's crew wouldn't know they were still alive. He sighed, got up and stretched, then grabbed up the phone as he slipped a pair of tennis shoes on. He speed-dialled the station and Dana answered, far too brightly for whatever time it was right now. That girl worked far too much, he thought as he requested Orion. He knew the Commissioner worked late the last couple days of the week. There was a pause as Dana re-routed the call to his office, and then the tired, world-weary voice of Orion Arkham answered.

'_Hello?'_

"Sir, it's Adam."

_'Ah, Detective. What are you calling this late about, Adam? You should be resting, you've had a trying past few days.'_

"I know. Jazz's test was tonight, but he hasn't had chance to get back to the guards yet. He's asked me to do it for him, but it's gonna look weird if just one policeman shows up to an apparent multiple-homicide scene." Adam checked inside the paper bag Jazz brought with him earlier to make sure he had enough doses and needles.

_'I see.'_ Orion paused, and then Adam could hear a wan smile in his next words. _'It'll get me out of this paperwork for a while, at least. I'll round up the graveyard shift and we'll meet you there. Where is it?'_

"WSI. Dock twelve, Jazz said."

_'Alright, let's get going.'_ Orion hung up and Adam did the same, snatching up his car and house keys, locking the front door and bounding down to his car.

* * *

**Rae:** ...is this the point I start cackling evilly yet? x


	12. Chapter 12

**Rae:** I know, I know! I'm sorry guys, I meant to get this out before Christmas, and then my assessments decided to dump a crapload of work into my lap and I haven't had any time until now. It's really not much of an excuse, but it's the best one I have. Hopefully the next chapter won't be so late in coming because I did kinda leave this on somewhat of a cliffhanger... (cringes) Also, I've sped things up a little in this chapter because otherwise it would have dragged and really? I didn't keep you hanging for a drag-fest.

Anyway, thank you as always and many luffles and huggles to my gorgeous beta for going over this for me! Enjoy, my wonderful, _wonderful_ readers, and thanks for being so patient x

* * *

_Excitement and adrenaline streaked through his veins like a liquid blaze, engulfing him from head to foot, and he let loose a wild, unstable cackle of laughter. He pushed at his legs, driving them faster after his prey, who was stumbling in his escape attempts. Foxtrot had to give him credit though; this man hadn't batted an eyelid when he arrived, and he was a damn fast mofo to top off his foolish bravery._

_However, respect didn't get far with Foxtrot._

_He finally caught up with the man after about twenty minutes of chase, grounding him by disabling his legs with a knife as the fourteen-year-old tackled him._

_Foxtrot turned around triumphantly as rolled up from flying off the downed man expecting to see some glimmer of distress or trembling by now. After all, the most feared child in all of Los Angeles had him at his mercy._

_But there was nothing. Nothing but a sad curiosity deepening the already dark brown eyes, which only heightened as Foxtrot demanded an obliging scream. He refused, which enraged the dreadlocked boy and he grabbed up his nearest gun. Its muzzle was placed directly on the man's temple and the safety clicked into the 'off' position._

_"Scream goddammit! Do it!"_

_Again, he was refused. Just as Foxtrot was about to shout it again those brown eyes found his__;__ sorrowful, questioning, and the man simply said one thing._

_"Why?"_

_Foxtrot was so surprised by the interrogative he dropped his guard, shaken by both the fact his prey dared to stand up to him like this and that no one had ever asked him why he did the things he did before. No one cared enough to._

_It wasn't until the noise finished reverberating around the courtyard they were in and the sting in his hand started to dissipate that he realized he'd made the gun go off. He stared down at the man, peaceful and calm even in death, a mixture of emotions running through him. Fury was quick to surface above all the other tumultuous feelings that he'd been dislodged this badly by one simple word, and he raised the gun once more towards his now-dead prey._

_He fired._

_

* * *

_

"No!"

Jazz bolted upright in bed, breathing erratic and sheets strewn everywhere. He'd obviously been restless while dreaming. He put a hand over his eyes, running it gently down his face as he calmed down. He felt along his dresser for his visor, snapping it into place and wobbling into the bathroom once he found it. He switched on the light over the mirror and stared at the face that looked back at him. The haunted visage that Jazz always saw but never really acknowledged was all that was left in his features now, features that screwed up in despondency as he hung his head to turn away from Foxtrot.

Three weeks.

Three weeks since Foxtrot had been accepted into Morgan's crew, three weeks of criminal activities (not including hosting that Russian Roulette game; Jazz had flat-out refused to do that), three weeks of not seeing Adam. The lieutenant stared into the depths of the sink, finding the plug fascinating as his thoughts ran away with him.

How much did Adam miss him, Jazz wondered. Was he anxious? Scared? Not worried because he thought Jazz could look after himself? He hadn't talked to Adam in case Shiv managed to track the call and realize Jazz's connections (texts were much easier to conceal but far harder to disguise the action of doing so as something else), and what little he knew of his partner he had heard from Ryan when he went in for a medical exam last week and some sleeping pills.

Speaking of which... Going back into his past was never going to be easy, Jasper knew that the moment he suggested the plan to Orion, but he could've done without the returning and recurring nightmares. They felt worse now than they did back then, but that could just be because he hadn't had any for years and thus lost whatever immunity he'd built up to their effects. He grabbed up a small white bottle from the sink side, popping it open and swallowing two of the tablets dry, shuddering and making a face as he did.

He heaved a groan and sloped back to his bed, not bothering to turn the light off and faceplanting into his pillows. He was positive the nightmares would go away if only Adam was there to keep him safe, stop them from hurting him.

Curling up into a ball Jazz dragged the sheets over him completely and set himself for another night of fitful sleep, trying to fill his thoughts with nothing but the man who had taken his heart and was refusing to give it back.

**-x-**

Detective Adam McCallen was partnerless. Again. At least this time he was pretty sure it was only temporary. Or should only be temporary.

He sighed and stopped his feeble attempt at writing up the report on his latest bust he had been doing. He hadn't heard from Jazz in somewhere around three weeks. He'd stopped counting after ten days. He found they went by quicker.

He wondered if Jazz was alright and how he was coping. On a whim he pulled up Jazz's police records, and stared at the photo attached to the file on his basic profile. It didn't do him justice. Adam read through the information, memorizing anything he came across which he didn't already know. It wasn't a lot. He felt he knew Jazz inside and out.

And yet not at all.

It was, perhaps, that enigmatic aspect and Adam's desire to put the puzzle of Jasper Miles fully together that drew the detective to him. Adam already knew he was ensnared by the African-American's cheeky grin and wry humor and uncanny empathy, but he was getting more and more aware by the day that there was something a lot more to it than simple obsession or commitment.

He was falling in love, and there was nothing he could do about it. Falling more and yearning more each day Jazz was not in his life, and it was becoming nearly unbearable. He glanced over at the desk he knew should house the younger man, safe and sound and chipper, saying something that would cause both exasperation and great amusement on Adam's part.

The detective sighed and his head met the wood of his own desk briefly before trying to get back into his report. It was going to be another long day, he knew it.

**-x-**

"Yo Foxtrot."

Jazz turned around from where he was helping Thane with the plan for next weapons shipment send-off to see Warren leaning against the conference room's doorway. The logistics chief thumbed over his shoulder and pushed off of the wall gracefully. "Follow me. Lord Morgan has someone he wants you to meet."

Jazz raised an eyebrow and glanced at Thane, who nodded that it was okay, go ahead, he could outline the rest. The saboteur strode out the room until he caught up with Warren, dropping in to match his step rhythm.

"Who is it?"

"You'll see when we get there. It's not my place to tell." Warren didn't say anything else, and Jazz shrugged a shoulder and stepped into the elevator behind him. They went down until they reached Morgan's floor, and when it opened Warren swept out in a quiet confidence Jazz had never seen on him before. He made a mental note to ask later, after he'd met this mystery person of Morgan's.

They arrived at the crimelord's office, and the dark-haired man rapped three times sharply on the door. Morgan's voice granted them entry, and Jazz stepped in to find Russell sitting at a desk with Samuel silently behind him and another very devious, patient and smart-looking man leaning over small pile of papers with Morgan. His hair was swept back and slicked, and an eyepatch covered his left eye. The other gold one glanced over Jazz once before he straightened. Morgan also stood up, and smiled.

"Ah, Foxtrot. I see Skype actually managed to keep his word this time and found you. I would like you to meet our operations commander Shiv Corey. Shiv, this is the LA marauder himself, Foxtrot."

"Pleasure." Shiv's voice was smooth, oily and cultured as he held out a bony hand towards the saboteur. Jazz took it with a nod of acknowledgement.

"Shiv here has been... complaining at me that he hasn't been able to crack the electronics you possess to make sure you aren't a danger to my operations."

"Then it means I've done done m'job well," said Jazz coolly. "I told yeh b'fore, Russell, I don' like people sneakin' in mah private business."

"Indeed. I have persuaded him to let it go. Don't make me regret it." Morgan's eyes flashed sharply, and Jazz narrowed his own back. Shiv let out a frustrated noise.

"I still do not see why I cannot check you to make sure you really are not a danger. If you have nothing to hide then-"

Jazz snarled, and before anybody knew what was happening the lieutenant had Shiv around the neck up against the wall, gun cocked, loaded and resting against his temple. "'Course I got secrets, yeh pirate reject. I don' want some nosy busybody pokin' their nose in things that don' concern them and I don' appreciate bein' accused o' somethin' I ain't done." Jazz pressed the gun harder against the other's head to make a point. "Y'know _why_ I killed most o' m'gang back in LA? Do yeh?"

"I was never able to get good intel on that," admitted Shiv quietly.

"It was because one o' th'idiots found out m'parents were cops b'fore they died, 'n convinced most o' th'others that I must b'undercover, there t'rat on 'em 'n keep tabs." Jazz let Shiv go, but kept the weapon trained. "I was five years old when they were killed. Sent t' an orphanage where no one cared 'bout meh, no one did anythin' fer meh. I learned quickly that I could only rely on mehself, I couldn't trust anyone. I chose mah own life, damned what mah parents were! Those idiots turned on meh, so I showed 'em how much of a cop I really was."

The lieutenant finally lowered the gun and holstered it, keeping the safety off. "Bad things happen t'people who meddle too deep int' mah affairs, Corey. Don' b' one o' 'em."

Shiv didn't move or say anything, just kept watching Jazz with an unreadable expression. Morgan chuckled, thoroughly amused by the whole exchange. "And there you have it Shiv. One of my best men to date, this one. I will admit I was wary about accepting his offer to join me, I thought he had ulterior motives. He has, however, proven himself several times and has earned the benefit of the doubt."

"I only made th'offer so yeh'd stop huntin' meh down. It was gettin' tiresome," grumbled Jazz, stepping back to lean sulkily against one of the walls. Morgan merely quirked an eyebrow.

"It appears to have worked then, no?"

Jazz bared his teeth but stayed silent, and Morgan sat back down with a satisfied expression. "And now we are all acquainted, if you don't mind Foxtrot I have some business to discuss with my commander." The lieutenant dipped his head slightly and sailed out the room, followed closely by Warren. The logistics chief was still oddly quiet as they made their way back to the elevator, and it wasn't until they reached a few stories up that Jazz reached over and hit the emergency stop button to bring the elevator to a halt between floors. Warren looked alarmed at him, and Jazz stared coolly back.

"Alright, Skype. What's the deal? Yer never this quiet 'n hell if I ain't seen you this confident b'fore. What's goin' on?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," muttered the dark-haired man, turning away.

"Bullshit." The snapped word made Warren flinch, but Jazz didn't take it back. "Somethin's goin' on, 'n unless yeh tell meh I'm goin' straight back down t'Morgan 'n tellin' him I suspect yeh o' outside dealin's. We clear?"

"Alright, alright!" Warren looked slightly panicked at that. "Promise you won't tell anyone!"

"That's why I stopped us in here. Now spill."

"It's Spencer." The logistics chief lowered his voice. "He's got a plan to get us outta here, away from Lord Morgan. We've been wanting to get out from his shadow for a long time, Spencer, Thane and I. So Spence has been cooking up a plan, and we set it in motion a few days ago, and it seems to be working so we might be out of here within the week."

"Ahhhh, so _that's_ what's got yeh all so peppy. I was wonderin' why White weren't throwin' any really derogatory remarks at meh lately." Jazz snickered, and Warren suddenly looked worried again. The saboteur caught it, and smiled. "Ah don' worry, I ain't tellin' him. I'm jus' wonderin' how yer gonna keep runnin' from him when he has international influence 'n could find yeh almost anywhere."

"Thane's taking care of that; he's making us all completely new people. New backgrounds, new names, new lives, new _everything_. And slowly erasing us as he goes." Warren's confidence came back again. "Morgan won't find us. This trine will be nothing but a memory when we bust outta here."

Jazz snorted and hit the emergency stop again to re-start the elevator's upwards movement. "Yeah, good luck with that."

**-x-**

It wasn't until a few days later that things really kick-started. Fairly soon after Jazz had been drafted into Morgan's crew, he had found the computer terminals which stored almost everything Shiv recorded on the crime lord's activities, business dealings and transactions. A private network, one that could only be accessed from inside the base. Secure beyond anything Jazz had ever seen before, but after a few more days of work he managed to crack the algorithm and create his own set of access keys that changed with the updates Shiv did every other day to appear as though part of the actual security, but created a passageway for Jazz to stream off information. Information he stored in an external storage device that could only be connected to remotely by his PDA.

And it was this recon he was doing for the 27th that gave the whole game away.

Four weeks of being extra careful, perfectly timed and damned sneaky about coming in here to steal, and the one time he forgot to lock the freaking door... He was caught red-handed at one of the terminals facing a livid Shiv Corey, a confused Thane, a triumphant Spencer and an emotionless-as-ever Samuel, behind whom stood a stunned Rumble.

As Shiv moved forward to apprehend him Jazz slammed a fist down on his device so it shattered, and then began ripping out the wires and short-circuiting the circuitry creating too much damage for the ops commander to get anything off it. Certainly the line between the terminal and where Jazz was siphoning the information to was now severed, which was the main thing. Jazz had managed to get more than enough evidence of Morgan's dealings to put him on death row sixty times over.

He offered little resistance as they subdued him, cuffed him and dragged him off to face their leader. He knew that fighting at the wrong time would only make the situation worse.

"Man you are in _so_ much trouble!" sing-songed Spencer with glee as he practically bounced alongside the subdued lieutenant. Jazz ignored him, glaring at the floor.

"Imagine, Foxtrot. I come in to confirm the details of our next little job with my associates, and I find you taking something that doesn't belong to you." Shiv leaned over Jazz's shoulder. "I've never trusted you. Morgan was a fool to do so."

"'M a kleptomaniac, so sue meh," growled Jazz, who received a sharp whack to the face in reply.

"Don't play smart with me, boy. I'm not known for my sense of humor."

"Nah; more like he's known for his skills in torture," smirked Spencer. Jazz did react then, turning a steady, humorless gaze to the SIC as they bundled into the elevator on their way to drag a traitor to Morgan. The dreadlocked man resisted the cheeky urge to parrot 'take me to your leader'.

"So 'm I. I'm as good at takin' it as I am givin' it."

"We'll see," Shiv deadpanned, and nothing else was said for the rest of the journey.

**-x-**

So, thought Jazz as he was thrown onto his knees in front of Morgan. The throne room, huh? Smart man; better to have less people spread out then more squashed together when holding a prisoner. He let his gaze settle on Morgan, ignoring completely Spencer's sadistically happy noises, Shiv's barely restrained urges to beat him around a bit and the two unknown guards menacing behind Russell. The leader of the Happy Gang interlaced his fingers delicately behind his back in sharp contrast to the hard expression he bore.

"Who are you working for, Foxtrot? Why are you stealing from me?"

Jazz didn't answer and didn't blink, not even when a boot to his stomach courtesy of Frenzy made him double forwards slightly as the air left his lungs in a big rush.

"Why, Foxtrot? Who are you? What did you come here for?"

Still no answer, and another small beatdown.

It continued on for several minutes, until Morgan grabbed a gun from in his desk drawer and aimed it somewhere around Jazz's knee to repeat his question. Before he could do so though, Shiv's cool voice intervened. "My Lord, if I may?"

Russell canted his head to one side, but lowered the gun and nodded.

"Samuel has just been kind enough to fetch my laptop for me, because I have a hunch." Jazz finally broke his gaze briefly away from Morgan to dart to Samuel, whom the saboteur hadn't noticed leaving or coming back. Shiv moved to the desk, on which he placed the machine. He leaned over it, and for the next couple minutes there was silence save for the tak-tak-taking of Shiv's fingers on the keys.

Eventually he made a triumphant noise. "Clever bastard, but not quite clever enough." The operations commander turned the screen around, and Morgan growled as Jazz's eyes opened wide. His police profile was staring back at him, picture and information included.

"My mistake was that I assumed you to be a cop from here in Detroit. Either you really are from Alabama, or you were transferred there temporarily in case we happened to check the Michigan database." Shiv smirked. "I also found this a few days ago in some video footage I was trawling through." He minimized Jazz's profile, and brought up a saved AVI video instead. It turned out to be footage caught on news cameras of various crime scenes dating back a few months. At one point he paused, and Jazz recognized it almost immediately. The first crime scene that he and Prowl ever went to together. The bank break-in. In the paused frame there were two blurry police figures, but one of them definitely had dreadlocks like his own.

"I wasn't sure when I first saw this, so I tried checking state databases but couldn't find you anywhere. So I took Morgan's advice and let you have the benefit of the doubt, considering your history." He brought back up the profile as Jazz felt a brief rush of gratitude to Alex for thinking of that too, without which he probably would have been discovered a lot sooner. "So, Police Lieutenant Jasper Miles, what do you have to say for yourself now?"

Spencer cackled as the lieutenant did nothing but narrow his eyes at the crime lord and his smug-looking commander. The pale-haired SIC stalked proudly up to Jazz and lifted him roughly to his feet, then smashed the heel of his hand right into Jazz's face before moving to restrain him with a comment of, "you're dead meat now, copper."

At that Jazz spun around quickly, tossing off Spencer's hands and threading his body through the cuffs so his hands were now in front of him, and at the same time pilfering Spencer's gun from the holster on his side. The lieutenant swung the weapon at each of Morgan's nameless guards either side of him and shot, one bullet each to the head with deadly accuracy even among the mayhem of the others trying to wrestle him back into submission.

He leveled the gun at Morgan, fully intending to do exactly the same thing, when he paused as the thought crossed him that everything he'd done so far to put this man behind bars would be for nothing if he shot him right now. The hesitation allowed Spencer to get a good grip on the saboteur, twisting Jazz's arm to force him to release the gun and shoving him to the ground, where Frenzy tazored him to keep him down. Jazz cried out briefly as the electricity coursed through him, and lay twitching afterwards as his muscles spasmed out.

"Take him to the cell blocks, and for fuck's sake _guard_ him. Make sure he cannot escape. I'll deal with him later." Morgan's voice was flat, cold and emotionless. Not a good sign. Jazz grimaced as he was hoisted up uncomfortably by both his arms and dragged unceremoniously from the room.

**-x-**

Jazz tested the cuffs behind him, but to no avail. It seemed Shiv had learnt where the others hadn't, and they were electronically locked which meant Jazz had nothing to pick. They were tight too, and primed to release a burst of electricity on remote command that would easily incapacitate him should he get too out-of-hand. The saboteur slumped against the wall and sighed. He couldn't reach his ear, and his arms were folded behind him so he couldn't bring them forward like last time.

Not that it mattered; his trick needed a loose chain between the cuffs, and these had a solid unmovable steel bar. He sighed and pushed off the wall, letting his fingers run along the brickwork and feet search the floor for something, anything that could help him. He'd hoped that they had gotten too used to his visor to think about removing it, but apparently not.

His probing fingers eventually touched on a group of nails in the brickwork, pointy end out and a couple feet off the floor. He lowered slightly and examined them. They were mostly thick and pretty close together, dotted every so often with small thin ones, blunted and rusty. He knelt down and began trying to see if he could catch the back of his earring on one of the small nails. The side of his face got scratched and pricked pretty quickly, but he ignored that. He'd had worse.

Several minutes later and he was getting antsy, annoyed by the fact he couldn't get the damn thing hooked. Granted it was a slim chance, but he had a knack for defying the odds. Perhaps luck had run out him this time. He tried once more, then sighed and lifted his head up.

Only to find his ear had got trapped between two nails, snagged by either side of his earring. He was about to pull out sideways when a thought hit him. And not a pretty painless one.

A cocked ear towards his cell door told him that no one had come while he wasn't paying attention, so he turned his attention back to the nails. Biting his bottom lip so he wouldn't bite his tongue and clenching his hands, he counted to three slowly in his head.

When he reached 'three' he stood up as fast and with as much force as he could. There was resistance at first, but that didn't last as the last of the momentum and straining upwards force finally caused the caught earring to be pulled straight through his earlobe with the loud sound of flesh literally being torn apart.

He wanted to yell out the pain, but that would just alert someone so it was all he could do to clamp his teeth to his lip, tasting the metallic tang of blood. He listened for where the earring fell, then felt awkwardly around the floor for it until he found it, warm and wet to the touch. He grimaced then pulled apart the two pieces.

His silent alarm was sent. Thank god for Alex Redding and Simon Cooper, thought Jazz before he fell against the wall and slid down it.

Now, he waited and hoped the signal got through.

**-x-**

"We almost had them nailed, Commissioner, and then Foxtrot took most of my men out. Simple as. That's the fifth time this has happened in the past two weeks and my men are getting extremely agitated about it. And rightly so. I mean, what if he's let Foxtrot out more than he should, and he's not planning on coming back? He's schizophrenic, we know that, but sti-"

Orion raised a hand to stop Alex's tirade, and raised an eyebrow at him. "Redding, if Foxtrot really wasn't working for us anymore do you honestly think he'd still be using those drugs instead of actual bullets? Foxtrot lived for the kill, not money or drugs. Since he's not killing I think it's fairly safe to assume Jazz is still very much in control. He's just playing his part to keep Russell from suspecting anything."

"I dunno, Orion, I still say we need to be careful. I pegged him as a possible security risk the moment I met him."

"Jazz is Jazz, not Foxtrot," came an icy voice from behind the red-haired man, and both Alex and Orion looked at the door to see Adam leaning against it with a frown on his face. "No partner of mine is going rogue on us."

"You don't know that," retorted Alex, eyes narrowing. He immediately found himself the center of a furious gaze, blue eyes as chilly as the voice that accompanied them.

"Jazz is ours, Redding. Not Russell's."

Alex wisely didn't say anything else, and physically backed down by moving back to the wall and lowering his body against it. Orion pinched the bridge of his nose briefly and exhaled noisily.

"I'd appreciate you not freaking out my security officers, Detective. Now, what do you need?"

"My apologies." Adam slumped slightly, angry tension dissipating as he handed over a few sheaves of paper. "The report for the rioting Benjamin and I handled last night, and the paperwork for the DA's office on O'Brien's case."

"Thank you, Detective." Orion watched with some concern as Adam's eyes dimmed slightly and he turned around to the door with an unsure movement. "Adam, wait. You haven't been yourself lately, are you-"

He was cut off as an alarm sounded from the radio nestled on the edge of Orion's desk. It was a quiet but demanding alarm, one that all three men recognized instantly. Adam looked at Orion in horror as the precinct commissioner picked up his phone immediately. "Dana? Get Simon, Ben, Heath, Byron and Raji here stat, and anyone else who's free from this shift. Tell them Jazz just set off his panic button. We're going in."

**-x-**

"Sides! Goddammit you sorry excuse for a rotting trashpile, give that back to me _right now_ or I swear to God I'm gonna rip you limb from limb!"

"No way bro; you wouldn't do that to your own twin and you slagging well know it!"

"WHAT is going on here? I have a patient, you morons!" Ryan stalked into his living room, extremely unpleased at being disturbed from his work by the argument, and stopped short at the sight that greeted him. Sidam was on one side of a very small coffee table, leaning back with an arm outstretched behind him as far as it would go and an insanely goofy grin on his face. On the other side was Sunny, who was halfway through clambering up onto said table to try and jump his twin and looking very much like an angry, hissing cat with the way he was posed. He was trying to reach a paint palette that was being held hostage by Sidam's raised arm, and apparently failing miserably if his sour air was anything to judge by.

Ryan marched up to both of them and snatched the palette out of Sidam's grip, tossing it to Sunny who skittered promptly away with it. He sent a meaningful look to the twins that both of them interpreted the same way: shut up, behave or face the wrath of Ryan.

Something the twins had come very quickly to fear.

Ryan was just starting his traipse back downstairs to his patient when the phone rang. Sidam made an instinctive move towards it, but remembered he and Sunny were supposed to be hiding and halted mid-move. Ryan raised an eyebrow at him as he answered it instead.

"Doctor Chester."

'_Ryan? It's Simon Cooper. We just got the __emergency__ alarm from Jazz's earring beacon. He's in trouble and possibly hurt. We're gonna need you on this.'_

* * *

**Rae:** It's not what it looks like? D:

Actually, yes it is. And if you want Jazz to be saved then reviews will get Prowler there faster! (snickers) Until next times, my lovlies! x


	13. Chapter 13

**Rae:** Oh my god, I am SO SORRY, YOU GUYS! I honestly, honestly didn't expect NR to take _this fucking long_, but it did. I lost inspiration for it for a while, then real life smacked me in the face, then I had a couple university issues to sort out, then I've had to try and find a work placement, then real life smacked me again...

Let's just say it's been an interesting few months. On the bright side, I finally got my Auto Assembly shit sorted.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Ah, Doctor Chester, there you are," Orion stood up as the medic came into the briefing room, scowling. "Please, sit."

Ryan tilted his head to one side, then shook it. "I have," he said flatly, "two charges who are insisting on joining the rescue operation. I've tried telling them no, it's too dangerous, but hell if they're listening."

"Really?" Orion raised an eyebrow smoothly, then gestured it was okay for them to enter. And enter they did, to a surprised noise of recognition from Adam.

"Sunny? Sidam? What are you doing here?"

Sunny scowled at the detective, his body language screaming 'it should be obvious'. Sidam nudged his twin and chewed his lip. "Jazz has looked out for us for years, since he started at the academy. We were a couple of no-good, useless punks with nothing to do except terrorize locals, shoplift and vandalize. He brought us in one day when we were caught stealing some Pringles, Twinkies and a crate of beer from a corner store. We were only 14, and Jazz must have only just started at his precinct 'cause he sure as hell wasn't any lieutenant.

"He gave us a second chance, offered to let us go with a warning in exchange for our services," Sidam shrugged. "We became a couple of his street informants, actually doing something worthwhile. He gave us a life. We owe him, big time."

"And that's why we're coming with you," added Sunny. "He'd do the same for us, no matter how dangerous."

"It's not a matter of how dangerous it is," replied Orion smoothly. "It's the law. We cannot let civilians in police business."

"But are they really civilians?" asked Adam before the twins could protest. They backed down and stared at the detective in surprise, as did most of the others in the room. "No, look at it this way. Jazz made them his informants, so he's responsible for them. In a way, by making them such he also drafted them into the civilian police, and he's their supervisory officer."

Ryan growled. "I don't care if they're been drafted into the SAS, they are NOT going."

"But Rai-"

"No buts, Sides," Ryan slapped him upside the head. "Neither of you are going."

Sidam rubbed at his head, looking balefully at his and Sunny's carer, while the blond twin actually _growled_ low and dangerously. However Sidam knew better than to try and argue with the medic, so he didn't say another word; he simply grabbed his brother by the arm and hauled him out of the room much to Sunny's rather vocal and physical protestations.

"Sides, what the fuck? We are going, that's the end of it." As soon as they were out of hearing range Sunny wrenched his arm free and glared at Sidam, who put his head to one side unrepentantly.

"I know. But we both know coming to blows with Rai over this isn't going to get us anywhere, so we're not going with that lot," He paused and a mischievous light entered amaranthine eyes. "So, we do this the sneaky way. We know how to be places we're not supposed to."

"And where, exactly, do you think Jazz is being held? Do you know? It's certainly not the base that he had while we were there," Sunny folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow mockingly, but Sidam could see the interest in his twin's body language.

"We listen in." Sidam dug into his jacket pocket, and then waved a small walkie-talkie at his brother. "I planted a bug on Ryan. We'll hear whatever he hears."

Sunny let a sly smirk curve his lips upwards, relaxing his posture slightly. "I knew I hung out with you for a reason."

"Oh, bro, that hurts!" Sidam grabbed at his heart, feigning a wrenching pain. Sunny shoved him for being an idiot, but not before noting that Sidam had grabbed at his right side instead of his left. Situs inversis was rare, but it did happen. They were true "mirror" twins; Sidam's organs were completely reversed while Sunny's were normal. Something about it gnawed at him, that they would never be truly identical, but it also meant Sidam was a lot safer and more protected than Sunny in their line of work. He was immune to normal pressure point martial arts and he'd survive a shot to the "heart" because no one else knew that his body was inverted.

And for that, Sunny was eternally grateful, though it would take a miracle for him to ever admit that out loud.

**-x-**

"Well ain't this jus' fan-fuckin'-tastic," muttered Jasper to himself, trying and failing once again for the umpteenth time to get himself out of his cuffs. He growled at the lack of results, and kicked at a wall before sliding down it. "Who th'fuck has a brig in an office buildin' anyway?"

The saboteur sighed, listening as it reverberated around the sound space. It occurred to him then that the ceiling and walls outside the cell sounded like they were made of a metal of some kind, and he had no idea how think the brickwork went and if there was concrete on the other side of it. A cold chill settled through him when he realized that maybe it was blocking the signal from his earring. He could feel the dried blood caking his neck and shoulder from where he'd ripped the jewelry out, the ear itself having stopped bleeding a while ago.

Closing his eyes, though it did nothing against the blackness he was already not-seeing, he prayed. He prayed his signal had gone through, he prayed that Adam would come for him and he prayed he'd get out of this stupid, _stupid_ mess he'd thrown himself into alive.

**-x-**

"Now, we only have a general area of about ten square blocks in downtown Detroit that we've managed to pin-point Jazz's emergency signal to," started Alex evenly to the force in front of him. "Because it's muffled and inexact, which indicates a dampener of some kind. However, Simon and I have been studying the locator positions of the microchip in Jazz's visor and we believe we've managed to narrow the search field a bit. Whatever Morgan is doing to mess with equipment seems to be working, though we have yet to figure out how he's doing it since cell towers and wi-fi connections seem to be just fine."

Simon took over, snatching up a red board pen and circling a large section of the map projected onto the meeting room whiteboard. "That's the general area of the emergency beacon," he supplied before choosing a blue pen and marking out another, smaller, three-block radius part in the north-east of the previous circle. He shaded it slightly. "And that is the area that Jazz's microchip goes dark. That is where we're searching."

Adam raised a hand as Alex opened his mouth to say something else, and the security officer shot him an irritated look before nodding for the detective to speak. Adam inclined his head slightly before doing so. "Is it all high-rise office buildings around there?"

Simon glanced at the shaded area and considered for a moment. "There are a few shopping malls and entertainment centers in among, but for the most part I believe so. Why?"

"Damn," Adam bit his bottom lip. "From what Jazz could tell me the few times he texted he was stationed in an office building. Tall one, good view of the rest of the city and blinds rarely open."

Alex made a noise. "Actually, that helps a little. At least we have an idea of what we're physically looking for. Problem is, Morgan's facetious company doesn't do "business" in that area, but it owns practically every one of the buildings in the entirety of this part of Detroit. There's no way to tell where he's hiding out, none of our contacts will have heard any whispers. The only one who does just sent out a distress beacon and we've no way to contact him."

Adam flinched slightly at Alex's matter-of-fact tone, heart constricting briefly in his chest. Jazz had to be okay, he just _had_ to. He'd already lost a good partner and invaluable friend, and damned if he was going to lose another.

They were all surprised, then, when Heath Reynolds stood up carefully, head bowed slightly so his hair fell into his eyes and obscured them from view, and said in a soft, unidentifiable tone, "I think I do."

"Heath, what are you thi-" Byron started, taken-aback and with trepidation coloring his voice, but Heath sharply waved him mute.

"What do you mean you think you do?" asked Orion, warning curiosity filtering through. Heath hunched his shoulders slightly and fidgeted.

"I think I know a way we can find exactly where Jasper is," He took a deep breath, the room having turned deathly silent. "I know... I'm a friend of one of Morgan's lieutenants."

"What?" Alex exploded, eyes widening. A finger was suddenly pointed directly at the scout. "No wonder Morgan always seems to be a step ahead of us! You've been telling him everything we've been doing!"

"No!" Heath's head shot up, his own eyes filling with pain, shock and anger. "I would never! I didn't know he was part of Morgan's crew until Jazz came to the precinct and we were suddenly chin-deep in this thing!"

"You expect me to take your word for it?" Alex glared at Heath, who seemed to shrink in on himself. He started as a calming hand placed itself on his shoulder, and he looked around expecting to see Byron offering his comforting silent support, but to his bewilderment he found himself looking at the brunette partner of the very saboteur they were trying to rescue.

"Enough, Redding," he ordered harshly in contrast with the gesture towards Heath. "Hear him out, find Jazz and then we'll deal with this. You would do well to remember your priorities."

Alex looked ready to argue, but Orion nodded too. "I agree, Alex. Stop."

The security officer subsided moodily, dark look still very much etched on his features. Heath inhaled shakily, sending grateful glances to both men before continuing. "I've known him for a couple of years. He's a great, sweet guy who I thought wouldn't hurt a fly. I mean, he's even helped me babysit my cousin more than once." His bottom lip disappeared as he chewed it. "Then one night I was getting ready to leave and I walked past Detective McCallen's office. I saw him looking at some files with a face I recognized instantly plastered across them. I... didn't want to believe it. I couldn't at first. My Thane, a chief player in Morgan Russell's empire? The same one that taught my four-year-old cousin how to play 'Go Fish' and gives her piggy-back rides around the garden?"

Adam squeezed Heath's shoulder lightly to tell him he was going off course, and Heath flushed. Byron put a hand on the scout's forearm. "Anyway, I couldn't decide whether to confront him about it or leave it, because if I confronted him then Jazz's cover would be blown and if I didn't I wasn't sure I could bear the thought of him being the bad guy here. So in the end I texted him, two words that just said 'I know'. He never got back to me and I haven't heard anything since, but if I can get a hold of him..." Heath trailed off uncertainly, eyes darting around the room from person to person. Only Alex seemed to be showing any kind of negativity or hostility towards him, the others appeared to be remaining carefully neutral or calculating. Ryan, for the most part, was ignoring the drama altogether and pressing a few numbers into his phone.

"How do you know he'll help us?" asked Raji, speaking up for the first time.

"Because I know Thane Mitchell," Heath returned quietly. "He will." Orion, Adam and Ryan, looking up from his phone, exchanged looks, wondering what the heck to do.

**-x-**

Thane jumped when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and Warren gave him an odd look. The assault specialist ignored it, fishing in his cargo pants pockets hurriedly until he found it.

And then almost dropped it when he registered the caller ID.

Heath?

Was Heath really calling him? He stared at it dumbstruck for a few seconds, until Spencer shrieked at him to either answer the damn thing or hang up, because Born To Be Wasted was _not_ a good ringtone for an assault specialist of his caliber to have. Thane flipped his trine mate the bird, and then hesitantly answered it. "...Hello?"

'_Thane! Oh thank heavens I got through to you, I was afraid you wouldn't answer.'_

That voice. Thane closed his eyes against the relief that washed through him like a tidal wave. "I nearly didn't," he replied softly. "I was terrified when I realized you knew, I didn't think you'd ever want to talk to me again."

_'We'll be talking about that later, make no mistake,'_ said Heath firmly, and Thane nodded though he knew the scout couldn't see it. _'Anyway, that's not why I'm calling. I'm calling about Foxtrot.'_

"Foxtrot?" Thane shared a look with the other two occupants of the room. "What about him?"

'_He sent off his distress beacon, so I'm guessing you know who he is by now._'

"Jasper Miles, Detroit police recruit. Yeah. Shiv found him out and reported it to Morgan earlier today. He would make an awesome SAS, did you know that?"

Heath made an exasperated noise. '_Not the time, Thane! Where is he? We're pulling him out before Morgan gets his mitts on him, but we need to know exactly where he is. The beacon only shows a general area._'

The assault specialist froze for a moment. That would mean giving away their hideout, giving up Morgan's location for the police to raid it. Would it be worth it?

'_...Thane?'_

"I'm here. I'm thinking." He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled noisily. He mulled it over in his head for a little bit longer, and then turned to each of his trine mates. Without him saying a word they realized what it was Thane was being asked to do. Warren nodded without hesitation, and Spencer simply gave him a look that said it was entirely his call. That settled it then. He steeled himself. "We're in the old Kilnsey building, the one that's been scheduled for demolition soon. It was a cover for any work Morgan may have had done to this place."

There was the sound of a few cheers in the background, and when Heath spoke again Thane could hear the smile in his voice. '_Thank you, Thane. I knew you'd come through.'_

"You're welcome." Thane hung up before he said something he'd regret and gripped the phone tightly in one hand for several seconds. Then he stood abruptly and turned to his trine mates. "You guys had better go, this place will be swarming with cops soon."

"What about you?" asked Warren, already standing.

"I've got a guest to liberate so Morgan has one less bargaining chip."

"Have you forgotten our promise, Thundercracker?" spoke up Spencer then, arms crossed and looking irritatedly at the younger man. "None of us get left behind."

"Don't use that nickname on me, Spence." Thane gripped the doorway. "No, I haven't. You won't be leaving me behind guys, you'll be protecting me. Keep cover until I get back." With that he vanished out the door, and Spencer let an indignant screech out after him.

"Honestly," he grumbled, moving to Warren and tugging him towards the door as well. "C'mon, let's get our bags and our asses out of here."

**-x-**

Jazz was beginning to feel a little woozy and tired; the after effects of his earlier adrenaline rush were finally starting to make themselves known. He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall. His arms ached like the pit now; there was no comfortable way he could set them. His shoulders had long since started protesting their treatment, his muscles still retained residual spasms every so often from being tazored and his jaw still smarted from Spencer's uppercut.

That was all ignored in an instant though when he heard footsteps pounding down the corridor to his cell. He shifted to one knee, cowed but still ready to run from or fight whoever was approaching. The footsteps came to an abrupt halt outside his cell, and there were a couple swipes at a reader that didn't register before a voice swore and a slower, third try beeped the keypad ready for code entry.

He recognized that voice... it couldn't be.

"What're yeh doin'?" asked Jazz warily as Thane hurriedly punched in a code and slid the door open.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Rescuing you." The assault specialist stalked in and hauled Jazz up to his feet, jangling a couple keys and pushing one into the cuffs, wrenching them off as soon as their release beep sounded. He then pressed a strip of glass into Jazz's hand, one the saboteur recognized as his visor. He made an inarticulate noise of relief and slotted it into place, then rubbed at his sore wrists and watched the dark-haired man intently, leery.

"Poor choice o' words there, since I only had sound t' go on. Why?"

"Because," growled Thane, "you're in the 27th. So's a friend of mine. If anything happens to you he'll be devastated, and the last thing I want is to see him hurt."

"So yer bein' a turncoat."

"Spence, Warren and I have been talking of getting out of here for months. You've just given us the break we were waiting for. Spencer had originally planned to set you up as our fall-guy, but seeing as you've managed that all by yourself..." Thane trailed off and shrugged, then noticed Jazz's bloodied neck and shoulder, stemming from a ripped ear. "What did you do?"

"Had t' get it out somehow." Jazz didn't elaborate further, and Thane nodded.

"Then let's go," He waited a few seconds for Jazz to properly get his bearings, then tossed him a gun. A Glock 19, Jazz realized. That was his back-up gun.

"How did yeh get this?" He demanded, inspecting it for wear and faults. "I didn't bring it with meh any o' th'times I came here."

"Actually, you did," Thane led him down a maze of corridors, turning far too many times for Jazz to keep track of where they were. "It was in your car when I was asked to turn it inside out. I kept it. I knew Shiv would start asking questions if the gun a cop typically carried was found in Foxtrot's ride."

"...huh," Jazz cocked the gun and aimed it as they walked, then lowered it but never relaxed. "I've never been that sloppy b'fore. I guess I owe yeh a lot more'n I thought."

"Help me get us both out of here so I can have that over-due talk with Heath and we'll call it even." Thane finally stopped in front of the elevator and turned to the saboteur. "Morgan knows we only have two ways out, and they'll both be heavily guarded. This isn't the time for Jasper Miles to be all reserved and careful. Foxtrot is going to have to do the work here."

"Jasper can do it too," Jazz said, locking mahogany with gold.

"No. Foxtrot is tainted and warped with blood, Jasper isn't. I won't be the reason he is."

Jazz only remained in a mind battle with Thane for a short time before he backed down. The assault specialist was right, this was no time for the niceties or subtleties of Jasper.

Unless...

He suddenly reached around Thane and pressed the button to call the elevator down to them. The assault specialist looked surprised, but decided to go with it and leveled his own gun at the door the same time Jazz did. When it reached them and the door opened, two of Morgan's goons just had time to plaster a look of shock on their faces before two bullets made short work of their brains.

"Hold th'door," said Jazz, stepping into the metal box. He moved carefully over the fallen bodies and looked up at the ceiling. A small hatch greeted him and he grinned. "Alright, now we're talkin'." Jazz took a step back, then leapt at one of the side walls and bounced off it to latch himself onto one of the guard rails that ran around the top corners of the elevator. Hooking his toes over one end gave him enough leverage to throw his other leg to the other side of the room, lodging his foot between the ceiling and the guard rail on the other side.

Thane watched the saboteur in bemusement as he was, to all intents and purposes, doing the splits in the roof of an elevator. Honestly, the situations he found himself in. Shaking his head he watched as the dreadlocked man above him meddled around with a square shape inset into the metal ceiling, until a loud click and a noise of triumph threw themselves back down at him. The hatch pushed open, and Jazz untangled himself and hopped nimbly to the floor as though everyone did acrobatic sabotage.

"Up," he said simply, pointing at the hole. "I'll give ya a boost if y'need it."

Thane just gave him a look, then copied Jazz's move earlier, launching himself at the far wall and then jumping back to grab the edges of the hatch. He pulled himself up smoothly and smirked down at the saboteur once he was on his feet.

Jazz just shook his head with a grin and pressed the button for the second floor, where one of their exits was located. The elevator doors hissed shut and Jazz climbed out of the hatch so both he and Thane were on top of the elevator. The shaft was cold, noisy and could make anyone claustrophobic, and the smell of old oil was strong enough that it made Jazz's eyes start to water slightly as his sensitive nose got a full blast of it. He kicked the hatch door shut.

"It won't take 'em long t' realize where we went, but this should buy us some time," said Jazz loudly over creaks, squeaks, rattles and groans. Thane nodded wordlessly, and they waited until the lift started slowing as it reached the second floor. Before it had stopped they both had the cover for the air vents off and Thane was already halfway into it when it did. Jazz quickly followed, bringing the cover back with him and putting it back over the entrance.

"Hurry, go," he hissed at Thane. The assault specialist needed no further encouragement. They didn't get far into the vent before Thane started quietly laughing, and Jazz shushed at him before asking him what he found so funny about scrambling through years of dust, grime and spiders.

"It's just..." Thane paused when they reached a fork in the ventilation, then decided on the left branch. "This feels ridiculously cliché. Do you _know_ how stereotypical we're being right now?"

"If it fuckin' works I don' care," replied Jazz, pushing at Thane to go a bit faster.

"But really, Foxtrot? The vents?"

Jazz made an exasperated noise, but refused to say anything more. He reached up to the holder on his temple as he crawled along and switched his view mode to infrared. Immediately his surroundings went dark save for Thane, who glowed brightly warm against the cold navys and blacks of the vents. He turned his gaze down waiting until he reached a grate in the vent. Once he found one he stopped to peer through. The rooms were warmer, but still seemed quite happy to stay a dark blue. Four heat signitures were moving around below him, and Jazz was betting there were more nearby. He grimaced, then started as an alarm sounded through the building once.

He heard the figures below shuffle around for a minute, before exclaiming, "What do you _mean_ Foxtrot escaped?"

The saboteur chuckled and glanced back up at Thane with a grin, but it quickly vanished as he glimpsed ahead of the blunette in the vent. What had previously been an alternating void of dark colors was now broken by a crosshatch of bright white. He noticed Thane making to keep going. "No, Thane, stay put," Jazz hissed. "Don' move."

The assault specialist froze as Jazz took in something he couldn't see further down the shaft. "What?"

"Lasers o' some kind, gridded. Right in front o' yeh." Jazz's visor faded from its reddened hue back the usual crystal blue, and the saboteur frowned. "This could b' a problem."

"You think?" shot back Thane sarcastically, relaxing his position slightly. "Now what?"

"Shaddap, 'm thinkin'."

"Well think faster," muttered Thane, eyeing the space in front of him where the lasers were waiting.

"Not. Helpin'," Jazz bit out. He flicked through to infrared once more, peering through the grate again. There were only two people he could see now, but that didn't mean more weren't out his line of sight. Grates were limited in that respect. He made a humming noise. "Thane, can yeh turn around?"

A pause and some major rustling movement. "It's tough, but yeah I think so."

"Do it. Yer gonna help meh take this grate off."

Thane let out a frustrated noise. "Fine, but tell me if I'm getting too near the grid."

Jazz's head rose to watch Thane shuffle awkwardly around in what little room he had, eyeing the laser grid carefully until the warm yellows and whites of Thane's face came into view. Jazz flashed him a brief grin. "Don' move back whatever ya do," he warned, and began picking at the grate to get it undone. Thane gave him a sour look in return, but started helping the saboteur.

Five minutes later and the grate came off almost silently, much to both the mens' delight. Jasper leaned out slightly, sweeping the now-empty corridor. "We're in luck," he said, pulling back up. "No one's there."

"You do realize Morgan's got cameras all around this place so he'll know exactly where we are the second we drop down there?" asked Thane dryly, one eyebrow raised at the dreadlocked man opposite him.

"Right, o' course he would. 'Cept I put some insurance on the cameras should I need to escape. Like we are now."

"Dare I ask?"

Jazz simply smirked and disappeared through the grate as he flipped silently to the floor. He looked around, then gestured Thane to do the same. "When I was on security detailin' I set up a killswitch fer th' cameras, tuned t'meh earring alarm." Jazz touched at his ripped ear lightly, dried blood flaking off onto his fingertips. Thane understood immediately; that earring had been Jasper's emergency alarm. Cleared up why he'd wrenched it out, then.

"They've been out for a while, then," Thane mused. "That's not right; Warren, Spence and I should've been informed the minute they went offline. We heard nothing."

Jazz's eyes narrowed at that, but he didn't get a chance to say anything more before he heard the sound of a gun being cocked. "Down!" he shouted right as a shot rang out. Thane hit the floor alongside Jazz, but the saboteur was up and aiming at the lackey who'd fired faster than the man could act. A bullet from Jazz's gun hit the man's head dead center before he had time to react further. Thane saw the briefest of satisfied smiles flash across a dark face, and then it turned to him with a questioning look. _Well, where now?_

Shaking his head quickly to clear the spike of fear that had gone through him at that look, Thane gestured down the hallway and moved off, Jasper following behind. His visor was back to blue now, but the canting of his head every so often told Thane that Jazz was listening for things and he'd be wise to keep quiet unless necessary.

They made good headway through the compound, which just set Thane more and more on edge. Jazz too, if his continually tensing figure was anything to go by. If this kept up they'd get to the exit and out without any resistance. It didn't bode well with the assault specialist.

And no truer words were thought when Jazz suddenly stopped and stiffened, expression turning savage. "We're surrounded," he whispered curtly, almost silently, whipping out his gun and steadying it at chest level.

"Well shit," Thane's own K100 came out. "You didn't hear them?"

Jazz made a frustrated noise. "No," he ground out. "I didn't." They moved until they stood together, Thane facing back the way they'd come and Jazz aiming at the split T-junction hallway ahead of them. The first man to brave coming round the corner was on Jazz's watch, and the wall behind said goon was immediately painted in blood. "Come out 'n fight meh, yeh bastards! Or are yeh too chicken? Scared o' Foxtrot? Well ya fuckin' should b'!"

"Don't goad them!" growled Thane, but the damage had been done. Their guns were suddenly being put to more use than they'd seen for a while, Jazz throwing in physical brawling to the mix. Several times the bullets meant for the two escapees found other marks, and Morgan's men found themselves taking out their own as much as Thane and Foxtrot were.

It was only after the last man had fallen that Thane cautiously put away his gun and turned back round to Jazz. The saboteur had a strange expression on his face, and he stepped over to the man who had actually managed to graze him with a bullet. He studied the body for a minute, then raised his arm and fired several shots into the man's head, desecrating it completely.

"Jazz, no! Stop!" Thane attempted to move to the saboteur, but aborted abruptly when the gun swung round immediately to focus on him. Thane stood stock still, his gaze meeting Jazz's fluctuatingly unstable one. "Stop this, Jasper. Please."

Jazz let loose a bark of slightly insane laughter. "Y'told meh Foxtrot would have an easier time o' this, Thane. Well guess what? Yeh were right. I had a goal undercover, somethin' t' focus on so I could push this part o' meh back. But now? This is survival, pure 'n simple. Jazz wouldn't get out o' this alive 'cause he ain't willin' t'kill. I am." The gun lowered slightly. "I am."

Thane regained his position a bit at the backing down of Jazz, but then his eyes widened when he glanced behind the saboteur. "Foxtrot, look-" That was all he got out before he saw Shiv knock Jazz out cold with a single blow to the back of the neck and he got his own, the last thing he saw being the operations commander leaning over the still form of Jasper Miles, slipping something between his lips and smug grin in place.

**-x-**

Adam threw himself into his assigned squad car, Ryan and Simon following quickly behind. He set the lights and siren going, gunned the engine and screeched out after Orion's car leading out the garage. As much as he loved his Datsun it was hardly built to withstand a bullet hail, and Jazz, he thought with a wry smile, would never forgive him if it got dented along the way. Squad car, safer option.

Misgivings about machinery were set aside when his radio squawked and Orion's voice filtered through. '_All units, report in ready_.'

Adam made to get the radio as next in formation, but Simon pushed his hand aside. "You're driving," he said simply, and pressed the talk button. "Unit One McCallen, Cooper and Chester reporting ready."

'_Unit Two Bleu, Reynolds and Hayes reporting ready.'_

'_Unit Three Jones,__Breaker and Ironhide reporting ready._'

'_Unit Four James, Redding and Sullivan reporting ready._'

'_Unit lead Arkham received and acknowledged. Let's go._'

"Sullivan?" Simon raised an eyebrow at the radio. "What on earth is Dana doing coming with us, and with Byron and Alex no less? They'll drive each other insane."

"I just wish the Commissioner had told me Ironhide was coming with us. I thought I saw him getting in with Ben, but I didn't notice him at the briefing so I thought I was mistaken," Adam's grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"I called him, told him everything. More hands, easier time of it," commented Ryan coolly, settling back. "He'd never let anything happen to Jazz."

"And you just love bringing civilians into this whole mess, don't you?" shot back Simon. The surgeon glared at him in response, and Adam felt the air start to thicken with tension slightly. He growled.

"Both of you knock it off, this isn't the time," he snapped, blue eyes icy with concentration and worry. "More important things, remember?"

It wasn't often the brunette medic found himself cowed, but he found himself to be ever so slightly just that to the detective driving the both of them through downtown Detroit with reckless, effortless speed. He cast his gaze downwards to his hands, which fidgeted uncomfortably. He stayed like that for a couple minutes, and then noticed something gleam out the corner of his eye, on the inside of his lapel.

He frowned and brushed at it irritably. It came away easily, but Ryan stilled when he realized what it was. "Oh those _idiots_," whispered Ryan in horror. "They'll get themselves killed!"

"Rai?" Simon gave the surgeon a quizzical look, and Ryan held out the bug wordlessly. The psychiatrist narrowed his gaze at it, sharp look demanding an answer.

"Sides made them. They're simple things, tuned to a walkie-talkie, but it kept him occupied and away from pestering Sunny while he was being arty." He grimaced. "I wondered why they left so willingly."

"You mean-"

"I mean that Sunny and Sidam both know where Jazz is, and they have a huge head-start on us. Those reckless morons are going to end up hurting themselves somehow, I just know it."

"You're concerned," spoke up Adam from the front, eyes never leaving the road. "You care for them."

"Of course I fucking care for them, the brats," said Ryan harshly. "They're my wards, it's natural."

"Perhaps." Adam lapsed into silence, leaving the medic simultaneously fuming and worried in the back seat. He flexed his fingers across the steering wheel, leaving them open for a few seconds before they curled back round to grip the rough leather. _Or perhaps you're like me and love them too much to let anything happen to them._

**-x-**

The scene that greeted the 27th precinct when they arrived in front of the Kilnsey building left much to be desired. There was a two-block radius of plots and buildings around them that had been abandoned, were up for sale or rent or had recently been demolished. The squad cars stopped in a line-up, covering their passengers as they slipped out the doors facing away from the building entrance. A large land plot stood between them and the Kilnsey office block, but that didn't make any of the 27th feel any better.

"Raji, Skylar, Dana, on the roofs. I want as good as you can give me," ordered Orion, pointing at the surrounding buildings. "Ryan you're on stand-by. Stay out of any conflict unless necessary, understood?"

The surgeon made a face and nodded.

"Adam and Ben I want you on point watch. Raymond, you and Anthony cover our asses. Simon, Heath and Byron you're with me. We've got to work out what the heck we're going to do. Sniper team, I want a non-radio signal when you're in position; I have a feeling our radios won't work while we're here."

The three officers nodded and snatched up their gear from their cars before disappearing. Adam watched Dana go, surprised that she was counted among the officers here. Wasn't she just a receptionist?

Byron seemed to notice and grinned, nudging at the detective and catching his attention. "Dana's been a cop for a while. As long as she keeps up her training Orion's okay to accepted her request as being a simple secretary; means we always have at least one trained officer in the building at all times."

"She can do that?" said Adam dubiously, and Byron shrugged.

"I don't question the big guy," he answered.

"Sir!" Ben interrupted them all, and the blond pointed up at one of buildings to their right when Orion turned to him. A green cloth piece fluttered out of one of the building windows, and Orion waved his arm once to acknowledge it. The flag disappeared. "That's one in position."

"The other two shouldn't be long," said Orion. He looked at the Kilnsey building across the way. Morgan must know by now they were here, what was he waiting for? Was he buying time for an escape?

No, unlikely. That would mean he hadn't planned for something like this, and Morgan was far too organized for that. It would also mean he'd have to kill Jazz and there was no way the crime lord would off his only ticket out. That, and Morgan liked to goad the police so he was likely to gloat about it somehow.

His thoughts were interrupted when Ben called out again. "Two more flags, Chief. They're in position."

Orion raised his hand again, signaling he'd seen them, and the flags vanished accordingly. "Now," he said heavily. "We wait."

And wait they did.

But, Adam was startled to find, not for a very long time. A lot of the precinct was getting antsy after twenty minutes of waiting, but they were rewarded with movement exiting the building. Guns were immediately primed and trained on the doors, a couple of shotguns and a rifle in among the semi-autos. To everyone's immense surprise and relief, the person who came out was none other than their missing comrade.

But their joy was short-lived, as Thane Mitchell followed closely behind him, herded out by slick-looking dark-haired man with a malicious smirk. Trailing behind him several more men crowded out and positioned themselves so they were spread out, but still close enough that they created a protective cover. It became clear that Shiv had a hold on both Jazz and Thane, the former of whom appeared subdued and languid and the latter trying fiercely to get away. Thane's lip was split, several small cuts littered his face and a large bruise could be seen forming on his forearm, and Jazz's ear, neck and shoulder were caked in dried blood, but neither seemed too much the worse for wear.

Adam let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Let them go, Corey!" yelled Orion, grip on his gun tightening. "Release them! Now!" The dark-haired man's smile simply widened, and he stepped aside a bit, dragging Jazz with him.

"Ahhhhh, Commissioner Arkham. Now, why would I do that when they're my ticket out of here?" Another couple of figures stepped out and Samuel took up the brief slack of holding Thane down. Heath made a noise of pain as Morgan Russell kicked the back of Thane's knees subtly, but enough that they buckled and took him down with them.

"I don't make deals with madmen," snarled back the 27th's leader.

Morgan clucked his tongue. "Shame." He gestured to Shiv who flipped the safety off his weapon and held it to Jazz's temple. Adam barely held himself back, but his entire being sang with the need to see Jazz safe and his captor behind bars. "I'd hate for you to have to arrange for their funerals."

"You won't kill them," returned Simon curtly, joining in the 'negotiations'. "You need them to get out of this. Without them you have nothing standing between you and us."

Shiv just pressed the gun more to Jazz's head, prompting an annoyed stirring from the man. Dreads shifted, and an angry, empty golden gaze was suddenly visible. It sent a brief chill down Shiv's spine, but he ignored it.

"Don't tempt me," said Morgan smoothly, keeping his eyes locked on the police in front of him and raising his armed hand behind him. He shot, and one of his men collapsed from a bullet to the side of his head. "I don't necessarily _need_ these two to get out of this. You should be wary of that by now, Commissioner Arkham. How many times have you tried to catch me now?"

He grinned wildly as Orion's lips pressed thin and his lightly lined, tired face suddenly gained ten years. "Although, I really must congratulate you this time." He moved to Jazz and took the young man's chin in his hand, forcing it up and facing the 27th. Shiv moved his gun to point at the saboteur's spine, out of his leader's way. "Sending Foxtrot in to trip me up? I can't believe you managed to tame him, I am really _very_ impressed. I was a little too willing to trust a famous homicidal gang-banger. A mistake I will NOT be making again." He let go of Jazz's head, but it stayed up defiantly. Morgan simply backhanded him for it. "And how the mighty have fallen," he scoffed.

"This is your last warning, Russell! Release them or we will open fire! Jazz knew the sacrifice he was making to go on this mission, he won't go back on that claim now!" Adam couldn't keep silent any longer, and Orion shot him a sharp look.

Adam winced as Shiv took the butt of his gun and smashed it home to the left side of Jazz's head, shattering the visor holder and sending an obvious wave of pain crashing through Jazz. The lieutenant tore at his restraints in an almost feral fashion, bringing himself to his feet, but Shiv merely tightened his grip and pressed his gun further into Jazz's back.

"I've already told you I have other ways of getting out of here, suffice it to say one of which involves blowing this whole block to kingdom come. So unless you want your precious lieutenant or this ungrateful traitor killed and this entire vicinity incinerated, I suggest you stand down," roared Morgan, striking both captives in emphasis. Adam's heart lurched, both at the sight of Jazz still so cowed and the manic instability glittering in his eyes despite the loss of both visor and holder. He hesitated, then lowered his gun. Losing his head now would do them no good.

Heath, on the other hand, seemed to have reached his limit. He was visibly shaking where he stood next to Byron, refusing to lower his weapon. "You BASTARD!" he screamed, losing the professionalism of his grip and aiming with one hand instead of both. "You let them go right now! I will NOT lose Thane to you, not again!"

"Heath, no!" Byron hissed, but the damage had been done. Thane was staring at Heath with wide eyes, trepidation, hope and fear merging into one in his features. Morgan simply raised an eyebrow, before an evil grin twisted his mouth upwards.

"Well, well, well... seems you have an admirer, Mitchell."

"You leave him out of this," Thane spat, twisting violently in his restraints. Samuel adjusted his hold, keeping the assault specialist down. "You even think about touching him and I will kill you."

At that Morgan laughed. "And how, pray tell, are you going to do that? You can't even save yourself, let alone him."

"Just you watch," growled the dark-haired man, eyes darting to Heath with a plea in them not to do something stupid. Heath either didn't see it or ignored it, because he started towards Morgan with fury on his face. Both Byron and Adam grabbed him and physically held him back, and Morgan cackled gleefully.

While most of the attention was on Heath, Thane and Morgan, Jazz's ears perked up at the sound of no more than two people coming up behind them. Well, specifically behind him. Then a couple of war whoops sounded before two of the lackeys around Morgan's group were downed. Sidam didn't falter as he flew towards his next targets, fists flying as he let loose. Sunny went straight for Shiv, and Jazz took advantage of the sudden intrusion and confusion.

He threw his head back into Shiv's, the action unexpected so it caught him off-guard. Sunny didn't didn't give him time to recover, following through on Jazz's move and belting Shiv in the gut with his knee. An upper cut sent Shiv went sprawling backwards, falling over rather spectacularly. Several of the goons surrounding Shiv and Morgan made to lunge for them, knowing the consequences of freeing the psychotic young man, but the saboteur dodged all the attempts and dived out into the veritable chasm between Morgan's stand-off and the police's protective barrier. He dashed across it at top speed, flanked by the twins and hampered by the fact his arms were still clapped behind his back and he couldn't see worth a damn.

He heard screaming for his name, the frantic calling of the one person he knew and trusted more than anyone, and followed it without hesitation. Something changed in Adam's tone as he neared though, a shout that was full of warning, desperation. Two simultaneous yelps sounded from next to him, which registered as the twins, and then the saboteur felt something punch his through his abdomen, winding him almost completely. No pain registered though, so his mind ignored it, putting whatever it was to one side. He stumbled, picked himself up and carried on running.

Then there was another punch, this time to the back of his chest; something was bound and determined to see him fall over. Which he did. There was still no pain that he could feel though, which began to strike him as odd. Even if he could brush it off getting hit by debris of some kind, surely it would send something to his brain to let him know he was hurt.

But there was nothing.

He slowly became aware the he couldn't really feel his limbs either; they were running on automatic. A sure sign he was pumped up on pure adrenaline and he'd probably regret all this later.

Shoving all of that to the back of his mind he got up unsteadily with help from Sidam and Sunny and finally managed to get behind the car next to Adam, who stared at him in abject horror. Then he snapped out of it, let go of Heath and began frantically calling for Ryan while simultaneously grabbing Jazz out of the twins' grip and gently laying him on the ground on one side.

The first time Adam pressed on his abdomen there was a rush of sensation, as though a dam had broken and completely overflowed. And most of it was pain. A scream ripped itself involuntarily from his throat the second time. He shakily put a hand to his stomach briefly, over Adam's, and when it was pulled away his fingers felt warm and sticky.

He realized at that moment exactly what those punches were.

"I got shot," he gurgled weakly as Ryan arrived all bustling business and sharp barking orders. "Twice..." He coughed violently, expelling a mouthful of the precious red liquid as the medic swore loudly. "I'm losin' m'touch, mehthinks."

"Shhh, Jazz, don't talk, Please, don't talk." Adam was now behind him, moving his head a little to cradle it in his lap and taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

Jazz squeezed back, but feebly tried to push Ryan away with his body. "No time fer that, Rai. Morgan's still got Thane..."

"Thane can wait; I'm sure he's got himself out of worse, and he didn't just get himself shot. You're my priority right now," snapped back the medic, taking out the same diamond-tipped drill he used to put Jazz's visual aid tech into his head. He pressed it to the cuffs and turned it on. The drill made short work of the cuffs, and once they were off Jazz stretched out his arms, grateful that he could now. Ryan placed a gauze pad over one of the bullet wounds, the one in his upper back that was bleeding much more profusely, and started wrapping the bandage round and round a torso slightly slick with sweat and blood. Once done he put a hand firmly on Jazz's shoulder to keep him down for the next gauze.

However, in Jazz's mindset that wasn't a good move, and with another sudden burst of energy and adrenaline he flew out of Adam's lap and grabbed the brunette surgeon around the throat. "No time," he hissed, tightening briefly before releasing him. The twins relaxed their stance slightly; attacking Ryan had garnered an automatic protective reaction from the two of them, but Jazz wouldn't intentionally hurt the medic.

"Jazz!" Adam stared at his partner as he got to his feet shakily, golden eyes staring dangerously in Morgan's direction where the crime lord was yelling at his second for letting such an important hostage go and not taking more care to secure him.

Thank what god there was for his previous habit of building immunity to poison. Whatever Shiv had slipped him to keep him down had worn off quickly enough it hadn't kept him incapacitated nearly as long as they'd anticipated.

"Not now, Adam. Where's m'spare visor?"

"You can't use it, Shiv destroyed your holder," growled Ryan. "Now get back here _this instant _before I sedate you."

"Only one side," argued Jazz, swinging round. The manic look haunting dead eyes still hadn't faded, and Adam knew this was more Foxtrot than it was Jazz now. He was about to pipe up when Sunny stepped around the brunette detective and snapped something into place in the holder on Jazz's left side. The lieutenant blinked as it lit up feebly, then stared at the blond twin.

"Don't give me that look," he grouched, crossing his arms over his chest. "I just didn't want to listen to your whinging any more."

"I-"

"Shut _up_, Jazz." Sunny turned on his heel and stalked off, leaving his twin and three slightly confused men behind.

Jazz shrugged it off and threw open the door of the car they were all huddled behind. Reaching under the back seats and a few seconds of fumbling granted him the spare rifle most squad cars in the 27th harbored, illegal or not. He checked it for ammo, then pulled out.

He was stopped by a hand on his arm. "Jazz please," Adam said quietly, expression unreadable. "Think about this; we need to get you stitched up and to a hospital. You're going to bleed out otherwise; the gauze is already overflowing." It was true; red rivulets were now making tracks down his back and hips, growing larger by the minute. "We'll think of a way to save Thane."

"No." Jazz didn't pull out of Adam's grip, and his eyes softened briefly. "I swore I'd take Morgan down, and that's exactly what 'm gonna do."

"You told me you'd bring him to justice."

Jazz gave his partner a long, calculating look, then reached over and pressed a brief kiss to Adam's lips. "This is justice," he whispered against them.

Pulling away he didn't see the hurt expression on Adam's face, and he popped his head above the squad car bonnet, taking in the scene. Both Morgan and Shiv were looking thunderous and victorious at the same time, and the reason was immediately apparent.

Warren Skype and Spencer White were now being held down by two people each, guns leveled to the backs of their heads. Thane was apparently in the middle of berating them ("What the hell kind of rescue was that? I told you to get the fuck out of here!"), Morgan was screaming at them to 'shut the fuck up already', White was screeching back just as loudly as Morgan that they didn't leave trine mates behind or had Thane already forgotten that and Shiv was silently trying to goad Orion and Heath into reacting.

When had they got there?

Jazz eyed them for a minute, then ducked back below the squad car. They must have tried to do the same thing the twins had, take advantage of a distraction and confusion.

Except theirs had apparently failed. Great, just great. This was all he fucking needed. He hissed in pain as his movements prompted protesting from his wounds, and he felt more than saw the aborted movement Adam made to go to him. A flash of something rang through him, but it dismissed it just as quickly as it came and popped himself over the bonnet of the squad car once more.

"Sunny, Sides, b' ready on mah call," he said quietly, ignoring the flickering that was just starting at the edge of his vision. "Yeh too, Prowler; we need t'b'ready t'go in."

Adam made a pained noise, a protesting "But-", and then grudgingly acquiesced with a brief hand on the saboteur's shoulder. He heard the detective leave warily, keeping cover behind the cars and moving towards Orion.

There was nothing to do now but wait until Adam got back with the okay, and watch for any more unexpected developments. He knew force snipers were probably situated around the area, but he also knew they wouldn't fire with hostages in their line of shot. Until they were out the way, the snipers were useless. Jasper clucked his teeth in annoyance.

When Adam finally returned and gave the whispered okay, Jazz tensed and leveled his rifle properly. Perfect. Now, all he could do was pray this madness would work, hope to hell nobody he cared about would be injured, and have faith his psyche would make this out somewhat intact. He instinctively shut his left eye, even though he couldn't see out of it anyway, and his remaining eye automatically focused on his target. He breathed in and out, in, out, in, out. On his last exhalation he didn't breathe back in again, steadying his arm and body.

He squeezed the trigger and fired.

* * *

**Rae:** MWAHAHAHAHA I leave you on a cliff-hanger! Yes I'm just _that_ evil. And before anyone asks, Jazz's wounds aren't through-and-throughs and no, the twins didn't get shot. They were surprised by the gunfire, is all.

Reviews a happy Rae-Rae make!

Well, if any of you have actually stuck around. If you have, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for putting up with me. x


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